


The Spaces Between Us

by arestorationofbalance



Series: i want you around [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Under the Red Hood (2010), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Communication Failure, Dom/sub Undertones, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Gratuitous Smut, Gun Kink, Healing, Idiots in Love, Jason Todd Feels, Jason Todd Has Issues, Jason Todd Swears, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sex Toys, Slow Burn, Smut, Temperature Play, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:07:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 48,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27092518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arestorationofbalance/pseuds/arestorationofbalance
Summary: The Red Hood has been on your tail for months. Confrontations get heated with each meeting. What seems hopeless finally becomes hopeful when he ambushes you in your safe house.
Relationships: Jason Todd/Reader
Series: i want you around [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2045413
Comments: 37
Kudos: 121





	1. Could Have

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posting from my tumblr with the same username. 
> 
> Warnings: sexual themes

It wasn’t that you liked this game of cat and mouse. Normally you’d end it before it even started. It’s just that you didn’t particularly mind the other person you were playing this game with.

Red Hood. 

There were rumors that he used to work in Gotham’s crime scene. That is, until he decided to work with the Bat. Whatever is was that he did, you didn’t really care. Regarding Red Hood, all that mattered was what’s happening now.

Gunshots broke through glass and bottles, scattering it like fake jewels across the tile floor. Heavy footsteps made them shake and shimmer.

He was close.

“It’s cute that you think you can get away this time.” You heard as you ran from the bar to the emergency exit.

Mad dashes like this weren’t unusual to you.

In your line of work, you had to be fast, had to be quick on your feet, to react to scenarios like this. Where your client might be on the wrong side of the law. Where a cape might get a clue.

You spared a glance over your shoulder. That telltale red helmet gleamed under the dim light.

“You’re right, Red. I think I can get away this time. Just like the other times.” You smirked.

No response this time. Just footfalls.

You glanced back again.

If he really wanted to, he could have caught you.

He could have propelled himself forward, crashing into you.

He could have easily pinned you to the floor if he did.

The weight of his body would have caused enough pressure to feel your tits rub against the dirty floor.

His hips would have dug into your ass. If you grinded against him, would he let you go or loosen his grip? Or would he have pressed against you harder, maybe even grind back?

Then you thought about your utility belt.

Would he pin your arms behind you so you couldn’t reach? Or depending on how you landed, would it be easier to hold them over your head? Would you even want to escape? Or would you give in to whatever he wanted?

It didn’t matter what he could have done.

You already reached the exit and made a dash down the alley.

He didn’t catch you this time.


	2. In Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Jason meet in an alleyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: sexual themes, adult language

Not many people can say that they enjoy the work they do. But you? You fucking love it.

You always loved observing people.

You couldn’t help that sometimes during these observations, you became privy to some very secret information. You couldn’t help that some people would pay a pretty penny for this information either. You could help which side of the law you gave this information to, but everyone knows which side pays better.

Who knew being a voyeur paid so well? You mused to yourself as you stood in the shadows of an alley. No, you corrected yourself, information dealer is what I’d put on my LinkedIn profile.

You looked up to the two silhouettes moving in an apartment window, earpiece buzzing. Someone wanted details on a higher up from the Maroni family, so you bugged their side piece’s apartment. So far, it was just basic dirty talk and some moans. Well, if it isn’t worth anything to them, at least it can go into your spank bank.

A loud crash broke your gaze from the window.

You turned. A motorbike toppled over a trashcan further into the alley.

“Another shitty thing to happen on another shitty night,” a man’s voice cursed. More curses came out, these softer than the previous statement.

You pressed yourself flusher against the wall. A can must have rolled your way because as you stepped back, you also stepped on it, making a noise.

A pause. “Who’s there?”

You hoped the shadows hid you well.

To a civilian, you’d look like some unknown crusader. Maybe a cosplayer. Maybe just some perv. They definitely wouldn’t know who you are at least.

But to anyone in law or on the other side of it, you’d definitely look suspicious.

Your anxiety about being found suddenly came to a halt as you were quite literally pulled from your thoughts. You found yourself on all fours looking up at the voice of your anxiety.

Red Hood. 

Your eyes moved downward and looked at the wrist he pulled. Then looked up again.

It had been weeks since you last saw each other.

You hoped he got caught up in a different case. Someone bigger, more important, more villainous than you. Maybe he teamed up with Batman for some Justice League shit. Anything to get him out of your business. But a part of you also missed his company.

“What?” He growled.

He looked more worn down than normal. Bruises scattered across his forearms. His normally pristine mask was shattered on one side, revealing jet black hair, a cut lip and… a domino mask?

And here I thought I’d be able to see what pretty eyes he had. Or at least the eye color you thought about him having.

Of course you thought about what was under the red hood. A battle scarred hottie? A pretty boy? An old man? Maybe he would look like some average Joe beneath the hood. Who knew? Do you only find him attractive because he gets a little mouthy?

“Cat got your tongue?”

“Well, Catwoman did give me a bit more than tongue one rainy night…” You trailed off, giving him a cheeky grin.

You didn’t break eye contact, for fear of missing his reaction. His brow lifted in surprise and you saw his skin flush for a quick second.

There was just something about teasing him.

Maybe it was because you weren’t sure if he’d make some smart ass comment, be embarrassed or have no reaction at all. Not knowing how he’d react excited you.

Would you have the emotional upper hand? Would he challenge you? Would his silence make you want to tease him more or give in to a moment of sweetness?

The power dynamics between you two, especially as it changed with each encounter, was more than enough to keep you interested.

Does he threaten your line of work? Yes.

Does that turn you on? Yes.

Jason swallowed and that brief moment of shock went with it.

“Not what I meant, but I’ll keep your pussy activities in mind.”

With a smirk, he was off.

All you could do was stare as he retreated, face as red as his helmet.


	3. A Cute Boy who Wants to Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have an unexpected meeting with Dick Grayson

You thought you just had an off night when Red Hood surprised you in the alley. You’ve been doing this for years. There’s no way you could get caught now. 

—

You didn’t always lurk in the shadows to get your information. It was just the least socially involved way of doing it.

“Would a cute girl like you want to party after a long, boring shift?” Some thug asked.

You had just placed two orders of burgers and Jokerized fries in front of him and his companion. You rolled your eyes mentally, but smiled and tried to think of a reply.

You needed to figure out how they scored some pills made of a diluted version of Poison Ivy’s aphrodisiac. All of the crime families were rushing to get the drop on this new drug and add it to their menu, but the Ibanescu family was offering an especially generous price.

“Umm, maybe?” You thought playing the shy card might make them more likely to pull out the drugs sooner.

They looked at each other and grinned.

_So easy_ , you thought.

Before you could get any further, however, you noticed a change in their demeanor.

“How about a cute boy who wants to party?” 

The restaurant was nearly empty at this hour. Last time you checked, these guys were the only ones dining in.

You turned face-to-face with Nightwing but he was looking at the two men in front of you.

Luckily for you, he didn’t suspect you. _Why would he?_

He moved you away from them, before whispering, “Nice girls like you should watch out for guys like them, especially on a late shift like this.”

Then he did whatever it was that vigilantes did.

Meanwhile, like any respectable Nightwing fan, you took a glance at his behind before running out of Bat Burger.

—

The other incident was a few nights after Nightwing.

A gut feeling prevented you from walking right into a club to do an exchange.

You lingered in your rented car, window down, feeling the cool breeze. Some deep inhales and slow exhales to slow your tachycardia.

You weren’t sure of the cause of this unease. This exchange was with a client you worked with before. You were dressed as someone unknown to them and to the area. Yet you had a feeling you might run into someone you know.

_Crash!_ And there it was. 

A commotion brought your attention back to the club.

Your racing heart went even faster when you heard someone yell, “Red!” 

Only to slow in disappointment as they finished with, “Robin.”

You drove off, knowing that you wouldn’t be getting paid that night.

—

_Where was the Red Hood?_

That question creeped into your mind every few days as you did various things to extract information. The question popped up whenever you were alone. 

Removing your ensemble from a long day’s work, you turned on the news.

“Batman fails to save mayor from Red Hood! Catch the latest news after this break!” a reporter exclaimed.

You didn’t keep up with the news and figured this was what was keeping him so busy.

_What a bad boy_ , you thought. _Guess someone felt a little rebellious but why?_


	4. College Experience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Jason get the college experience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: sexual themes, adult language

After Nightwing and Red Robin ruined two jobs for you, you decided to take on another assignment. It wasn’t procrastination that made you put the prior two on the back burner. You were simply frustrated by a delay in your progress.

Hindrances like that used to make you come to a dead stop. The old you used to drop a lead or a job completely. Then doing that would cause your entire schedule to be completely fucked for the week, then for the month. You used to obsess over these missteps. You hated your fuck-ups, your lack of self-discipline, how you were easily discouraged. Mistakes irked your perfectionist tendencies. Then with time, you finally learned to move on and pick things back up when you were ready.

So until you felt ready again, you decided to go back to college and learn a thing or two about biology.

Going back to school was easy. _Too easy._ You even found the monotony of document forging a relief from pretending to be someone else. Aside from focusing your attention on something new, you were also keen on scoring some student discounts.

An ad on one of Gotham’s prolific forums for crime was seeking information on Kryptonian biology from one Professor Siegel of Gotham University. The post seemed legit enough. The poster had an actual understanding of English grammar and it didn’t use any keywords that screamed, “The poster works for the Gotham PD!” It didn’t involve sex trafficking or include any of Gotham’s major villains. It checked all the boxes for an easy job.

—

Walking past all of the other students felt nostalgic. You remember being one of them, stressed about how you were going to pay for books, wanting to spend your nights playing beer pong instead, trying to fight the Freshman Fifteen. Being on campus again almost made you wish you finished your degree. _Almost._

Your heels clicked against the marble tile. The sound bounced against the walls of Gotham University. Though it looked aged on the outside, with its stone walls and tall spires, the interiors of the university were surprisingly updated.

After what felt painstakingly long in your heels, you finally reached your destination. The long walk made your skirt hike up a bit. Giant doors met you and you looked at the nameplate to the side to ensure you were at the correct office.

You rapped on the door with a manicured fist. No response. You fiddled with your messenger bag before decided to knock again.

A muffled “Coming!” let you know that you didn’t miss his office hours.

—

Jason was a bit excited about this part of his mission; Dick on the other hand was confused.

“Tell me again, Jay, why you –and I quote- ‘need those nerd sweaters?’ I think they might be a bit tight on you,” Dick said, closet torn apart in search of said sweaters.

“I never got the college experience on account of being dead, Dickie,” Jason said dryly while picking up a long-sleeve button up. “After my revival, I was too pissed at Bruce to see if I could live my sexy college coed fantasies.”

After assessing his options, Jason settled on a white long-sleeved button up, navy blue sweater vest and a matching tie.

—

Jason was fixing the scattered research papers on Professor Siegel’s desk. Apparently he had borrowed the raw data interpreting techno-organic viral infection and potential treatments from Crux. Unfortunately for Jason, Crux had a relapse in Arkham Asylum and had to be put on a sedation vacation for a week, so his research wasn’t directly accessible to him. He needed the information _now._ Jason would have to attempt to fabricate his own cure from Crux’s notes in case he needed to use it against Black Mask.

He ignored the first knock, hoping that whoever it was would get the hint that the professor wasn’t here. They knocked again.

Annoyed, Jason put the neatly formed pile on the desk and put on his glasses.

With a bit extra force, he opened the door to you meekly staring at him, your mouth slightly agape, lip gloss shining.

You were expecting an older man with salt-and-pepper curls and round glasses, not a total hottie.

Black glasses framed his blue eyes. His dark hair was messy on top and transitioned into a clean fade. His arms were crossed as he stood at the door, biceps flexing, stretching his rolled up long-sleeve shirt. You were definitely expecting a nerdy scholar, not this Greek statue before you.

“Well?” He looked down at you, his glasses falling slightly off the bridge of his nose.

The way he looked at you and that inconvenienced tone of voice got you a little hot. Just one word and he sounded so disappointed in you. What would you have to do to make it up to him?

“I’m looking for the professor…” You stated whilst stepping in and looking around his office. “He said I could stop by during office hours to discuss my assignment. He never mentioned anything about his TA taking over his hours.”

Your voice reminded him of someone. He just couldn’t place his finger on who.

“And what kind of assignment are you working on?” Jason asked while closing the door.

“Alien genetics.”

Curiosity got the better of you and you began to poke and prod around the space. You placed your bag on one of the leather chairs in front of the professor’s desk. Your skirt swayed with every movement before stopping in front of a bookcase.

Jason wasn’t prepared for you to reach for a book on a higher shelf, skirt reaching higher up your body as well.

He didn’t mean to stare at your ass. It was just _there_. Why were you wearing a thong anyway? And why did it have to be his favorite color? He bet if you just leaned forward an inch or two, he could see the outline of your pussy.

After one last look, he moved closer, leaning over you to grab the book. You weren’t even paying attention to Jason. Your pride wouldn’t acknowledge that you might have to ask this hot nerd for help. 

When you saw his shadow over you, engulfing your figure as he reached that higher shelf, you couldn’t help but squeak. You thought your heels would make you feel taller, _bigger_ , in case the professor was a threat and yet here this teacher’s assistant was, towering over you.

You turned to face him, face flushed. The sudden movement caused the hem of your skirt to brush against his khakis. The slight brush of fabric was enough to get a slight chub, his cock ready to give a shy hello. Jason was actually impressed that he wasn’t sporting a full hard-on after getting a full view of your ass.

“As I was saying, I _really_ need to speak with the professor.”

Jason had a straight face on. The close contact between you two didn’t even bother him and yet here you were acting like an actual school girl with a crush. You looked down in embarrassment.

That’s when you saw the slight strain in his pants. He must has noticed where you were looking because he cleared his throat. The book he grabbed for you conveniently moved towards his crotch, cutting off your view. It was his turn to be uncomfortable.

“Are you really here for an actual assignment?” Jason asked skeptically, moving away from you to lean against the bookcase. The book was placed at the edge of the shelf. He hoped his dick would take the cue and go away with the change in conversation. He put his hands in pockets in case it was slow to respond.

“Are you sure you’re not trying to earn extra credit?”

You huffed. You were digging the daddy vibes at first but now he was starting to waste your time. You thought this would be an easy assignment.

Time to give him a little afterschool special.

You walked towards the professor’s desk and sat on top of it. One cheek was on top of the research papers Jason had straightened earlier. You leaned back on your hands and spread your legs, giving him a full view of your clothed sex.

“I’ll have you know that I’m normally at the top of the class. I just get on top of professors because I’m _bored_.”

You hopped off the desk and reached for your bag. You went lower than necessary, giving him another view of your ass. You knew he was staring earlier.

“Hope you learn to stop being such a dick before you graduate,” you snipped as you went to leave.

“Yeah, office hours are over anyway,” the TA mumbled.

Once the door closed, Jason took off his glasses and rubbed his temples. He looked at his pants and sighed. Then he looked at the pile of papers that were spread across the desk yet again.

“Looks like I have to take care of two things now.”

With the pile of papers organized and only one task left, he couldn’t help but grin.

_College fucking rules._


	5. Theatrics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have a meeting with Poison Ivy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: sexual themes, adult language, drugs, sex trafficking
> 
> Additional pairings in this chapter: Poison Ivy x Reader, mentions of Harley Quinn x Reader, mentions of Catwoman x Reader

You went back to gathering information on that black market aphrodisiac. After dealing with that dickhead TA, you wanted to get away from people for a bit.

Instead of trying to get the drug directly and in person, you had set up several cams in popular club alleys and bathrooms. The clubs themselves would be too loud to hear anything useful, same with the bar. Drug transactions were more likely to occur in the privacy of bathrooms.

You set your program to search for specific words or recurrent faces. It saved you the time of sifting through hours of dudes pissing.

Finally your program got results. Scarecrow’s name came up several times yet you didn’t see anyone wearing clothing that would signify that they were his henchmen. However the same thugs from Bat Burger showed up. Were they his henchmen? You thought that the Scarecrow was motivated by inciting fear, not horniness.

Did you really want to sell information about the Scarecrow? You were one of the lucky Gothamites that has never experienced Fear Toxin and you’d like to keep it that way.

You usually deleted information that could incriminate Gotham’s greatest villains.

One, you don’t want to get on their bad side.

Two, working with a lower level of criminals kept you under Batman’s radar. You felt safer knowing that the Dark Knight wouldn’t come knocking on your window, ready to turn you in or force you to be his data gatherer.

Besides, you figured he probably already knew the same shit that you do. He just had bigger fish to fry than bother with the petty shit you dealt with.

—

Lately, it seemed like Batman was dealing with villains bigger than Gotham, an evil that could infect the entire world. This was evidenced by the increased presence of Nightwing, Red Robin, Robin and Bat Girl. Hell, even Azrael has been showing up more.

While Batman’s away, Jason had more time to play. He felt at ease without the caped crusader breathing down his neck. Jason knew Bruce kept tabs on him. Batman wouldn’t be at his shoulder or lurking in the shadows, asking Jason why he spent so much time spying on that girl.

Gotham was sick with cancer. Most metropolises were. The drugs, sex trafficking, the violence- they were all aggressive tumors, resistant to the cures that B tried to provide. As Bruce Wayne, his philanthropic endeavors attempted to address and treat the socioeconomic factors that fueled the dark side of Gotham. As Batman, he brought justice to criminals.

But Batman’s justice wasn’t Red Hood’s justice. Cancer is cancer, and the evil that lurked in Gotham could never be completely cured, only controlled.

That’s when his thoughts trailed to you.

You were useful. You worked at the same level he did. Sure, you worked with the bad guys most of the time, but you yourself don’t have evil intentions.

You didn’t seem too intent on destroying Gotham and its entire population. Half the information you sold was about dirty affairs that corrupt politicians were involved in anyway.

Jason had faith in you. If he gained your trust, if you heard what he had to say, you would definitely help him gut Gotham’s underbelly.

If not. Well, he already had a plan for that.

—

Jason needed to know who was manufacturing this new drug. He wouldn’t allow any of Gotham’s crime families to get ahold of it.

All of them were scum.

Each and every family were known for getting kids hooked on drugs, making them pay for their addiction with their bodies. Each organization had their own signature ways of marking their prostitutes to make sure they didn’t sell off the wrong one. While following a lead in Europe, he ran into a prostitute and to his disgust, he _knew_ , he _fucking knew_ that this glazed eyed kid came from Gotham.

Jason had a soft spot for women and children. More often than not, they were the casualties of Gotham. Being maimed and killed for simply existing. Being seen as nothing more than commodity. Their spirits were too broken to recognize the power within to change their circumstance.

He remembers how it felt. To feel stuck in that shithole. That fuck everything attitude that made living seem pointless. It felt as if nothing had consequence. There was no release in knowing that life was futile, it just made one feel even more powerless in their situation.

But now he was in position where he could actually do something about it.

Jason wasn’t a knight in shining armor nor was he a bat. He couldn’t do a lot of things that Bruce could. His own family could hardly trust him to do the right thing, though with the shit he’s pulled, he gets why.

But Jason knows, he fucking knows, that if he could pull this off, they could have a chance.

They deserved a chance. Women and children weren’t harsh and disgusting like the men he dealt with on a daily basis. They rarely had disputes over territory. They weren’t thinking of ways to fuck everyone around them over. Their intents weren’t to kill. They were just trying to live.

Jason knew how powerful women could be.

Poison Ivy, for example.

When he was Robin, he was a little shit. Being Robin, being Bruce Wayne’s adopted son, gave him a status he never knew was achievable. So yes, he did tell female villains they were shit, or that they were okay _for a girl_ and he did break a few hearts because he could. He wished the Lazarus Pit didn’t restore those memories.

Yet Ivy was patient with him. She made him realize how strong and determined women can be. How precious a girl’s- well, anyone’s- heart is. It took time. Jason could be a stubborn learner at times. But she taught him, even if she had to kick his ass ten times a week to learn these lessons.

—

When setting up transactions with your clients, you always told them how to identify you. The markers always changed, same with the places. A brunette with her hair in a bun, wearing canary yellow diamond earrings. A blonde with a strawberry mojito. The girl with tattoos who’s third in line to order from Mike’s hotdog stand.

The details changed but one fact remained, you were always in control.

With Gotham’s villainesses however, they dictated where you met them, what time and what you wore. You can’t even remember if there was an agreement. It was simply known.

Catwoman liked expensive jewelry and men’s clothes on you. She often made you wear expensive dress shirts and paired with diamonds. Some were monogrammed with ‘BW.’ You weren’t sure if the shirts were embroidered that way or if she stole them.

You only dealt with Harley once after you were certain she and the Joker were broken up.

She made you sit in a room with an overhead speaker, a single chair and one camcorder on a tall tripod. Sitting down triggered a vanilla cream pie to be thrown in your face which was recorded. After that, she told you to recite what you knew and eat the pie remnants until your face was clean. She paid you double what you agreed upon and even got you a Sephora gift card.

You don’t know if she got rid of that recording. You still have a bit anxiety when going on amateur porn sites, afraid you’ll find that video of yourself eating pie.

But Ivy? Ivy loved theatrics.

You’ve been doused with sleeping powder only to wake up in Montana where you watched the most vibrant sunrise over a big clear sky. She sent you a field of bioluminescent flowers that twinkled like the stars. After much trepidation and maybe a puff of pheromones to calm your nerves, you even let one of her mutant plants lick your own flower.

The flowers changed with the seasons but one thing that remained constant was her request for no underwear.

—

Your hair blew in the midnight wind as moonlight lit the path. The trail Poison Ivy told you to follow was a beautiful one. You recognized some plants she told you about before. Their leaves waved hello with the breeze.

Wading through a patch of hollyhock, you felt your flowing dress get caught on the plants. You felt the flowers give your ass a light pat before your dress was brought down by gravity.

You found Poison Ivy in the middle of a field of roses.

Meanwhile, Jason hid amongst the hollyhock, stealth tech on.

Ivy knew he was there. He tried to be mindful of stepping on any plants or bruising any petals. She wouldn’t do anything as long as he didn’t.


	6. Hurts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Ivy put on a show for an unlikely audience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mentions of implied non-con, smut, PTSD, angst, adult language
> 
> A/N: Here’s the therapeutic tentacle porn no one asked for.

Poison Ivy wasn’t pleased to know what Scarecrow was up to.

You admitted that you were afraid of the consequences. You knew how desperately Gotham’s lower tier criminals wanted Ivy’s aphrodisiac for their own, but you knew that the only person who could decide what to do with it was Ivy herself. You knew what it felt like to have a part of you taken, used against you, and to be blamed for it all. You just wanted to be safe.

Rather than show this displeasure, Ivy leaned close to you, so close you could feel her breath against your face.

Jason clenched his jaw. He wasn’t sure if he should draw his gun. You gave Poison Ivy the option to do what she wants with your information and yet she was trying to give you the kiss of death.

There was always that pause before she kissed you, her silent way of asking for consent. The green of her eyes wouldn’t allow you look away. Without words, she knew when and if should it should occur.

When your lips met, it always felt like being stuck in a storm of petals, the fragrance of her swallowing you whole. Despite her perfume, the rest of Ivy was always light on your senses. Her kisses were soft; you found yourself pressing towards her for more. When the space between you was too close for too long, you’d hear your breath hitch. It was too easy to get lost in Ivy. Her lips tasted like honeysuckle, nothing like poison at all.

As you slipped into that sweet spot of time distortion, the way all her kisses felt, you faintly heard Ivy ask if it was okay to put on a show. You mouthed a yes, unsure if a sound even came out.

—

You hated giving up control.

Giving up control meant giving up power. Giving up power meant giving up safety. Giving up safety meant giving into anxiety. Giving into anxiety made you more withdrawn, more unwilling to actively participate in your life.

But this time, like the other times with Ivy, your control wasn’t taken. Ivy wouldn’t let anything be taken from you that you didn’t initially offer or agree to.

“It’s scary, isn’t it?” Ivy asked, her vines slowly coming out to play. “Letting yourself go like this.” She glanced towards Jason’s direction, “Letting yourself be seen like this.”

She willed the hollyhocks to part slightly so Jason would have a better view. His form was rigid and tense against the flora.

Ivy’s vines removed your clothes, leaving it in a heaped pile. If Jason didn’t understand her intentions now, her poor student was a lost cause.

The redhead grinned. Ivy loved theatrics, especially when she had an audience.

You found yourself in your current situation because of this love: face down, ass up in a bed of roses.

“It’s a bit scary,” you shyly admitted, “but it’s also a bit exciting.”

The breeze caressed your body, your most sensitive parts shivering. Where the wind felt sharp, the rose petals’ velvet was soft against your skin.

You couldn’t have imagined that this is how your night would go, but Ivy had a way of exceeding your expectations.

“You know, he took a part of me after doing what he did.”

Ivy didn’t know who he was but she stood in silence above you.

“No,” you started, “It wasn’t a part. He took everything. He took everything I could have had and everything I could have been that night.”

Jason picked up the slight crack in your voice. He thought about _his_ night and how he died.

“I don’t even feel like a person half the time. I try and I try to make things work. To get it together. But I feel so broken. You can only pick up the pieces so many times. You can only hold on for so long until you get tired. I used to be so angry. So fucking angry. But now all I am is tired. Sometimes I don’t even care.”

You don’t even know why you brought it up. What you were doing right here, right now felt good.

Yet there was something about the way your face pressed against the petals, the way your skin prickled with the chill. Ivy’s kisses always made you feel like you were floating but right now you deflated. You weren’t losing her high, rather it was as if there was someone unknown against your back. Pushing, pressing, until you could do nothing else but submit.

It reminded you of that night. That night felt disgusting but tonight felt good. This division of emotions made your current situation confusing.

“I’m scared of what might happen if I’m put in that position of complete and utter hopelessness again.”

Ivy’s voice was gentle and soothing. If Jason wasn’t wearing his helmet, he might not have been able to pick it up.

“Trauma takes away our ability to choose, but you chose to be in this situation with me right now, didn’t you?”

You couldn’t even speak, your vocal chords crushed by intrusive thoughts and sensations. You nodded your head.

“How does it feel,” her vines spanked your exposed skin, “To continue opening these wounds?”

The thorns weren’t too painful. But with repeated exposure, you knew they would sting. They would cut you open and you’d be wondering how long they’d take to heal.

Jason knew that feeling. Hit after hit, the cracking of bones. He felt his death a thousand times every night before his body became too exhausted to sleep.

“It hurts.”

Ivy stopped. Rather than her plants soothing the reddened skin, you felt her hand, cool and soothing like aloe vera on a wound.

Watching Ivy made Jason touch his own body. He pressed against the large bruise on his left ribs, fingertips brushed half-healed abrasions.

Yeah, this shit _hurts_.

—

Ivy had flipped you over now so that you were on your back, her touch bringing you out of your thoughts. Your hair was splayed across the flowers, legs spread and open towards the tall flowers where the Red Hood watched you.

Her vines varied in sizes, some with thorns, some without. Some had thorns that were blunted, more akin to fleshy nubs. They never fully touched you, only a teasing graze here and there.

“You can touch it if you want,” Ivy smiled. “You can play with it. You can kiss it. All you have to do is ask.”

Ivy took your pause to tease you more. The earthy tendrils went a bit further, touched you a little longer. As you felt them creep up towards your legs, you felt your hips shift towards them.

“ _Please._ ”

Jason didn’t have to hear your plea to feel your desire.

He saw it in your body movements. The way your legs spread a little wider, the sharp swell of your chest as took a deep breath in and the soft sigh as the vines advanced. The moonlight exposed all of you, your center slick with dripping wetness.

Upon hearing you beg, Poison Ivy gave in. One of the nubbed vines poked at you gingerly. You moaned in response. Your reaction gave Ivy the affirmation to go further. It moved vertically against your folds, making itself wet with your desire before slowly going in.

Jason was entranced. He felt heat arise in his body as he watched you more intently. Wet noises made him aware of where his blood was flowing to.

Once a few comfortable inches in, the vine began to pump itself in and out of you. You followed its rhythm. You closed your eyes in content, feeling it rub all the surfaces of you, exploring the deep parts of yourself you were too shy to enter.

Eventually you wanted- no, _needed_ \- more. You begged Ivy and she obliged. You rolled your hardened nipples as Ivy’s plants fucked you harder.

It felt good, Jason thought, watching you fuck yourself with that vine. Jason felt like he was experiencing the same pleasure as he heard you moan and watched you buck your hips.

There was something so tantalizing about watching you, who just described how fucked up and hurt you were, lose yourself in pleasure. To Jason, you were more than deserving of an orgasm. You needed two- no, three at least- to excuse all that pain that life dumped on you.

His cock felt suffocated in his pants, so he let it free. It sprung free against its restraint, hard and throbbing. Not even the cool air could reduce its swelling. He started stroking it aggressively, attempting to keep pace with you.

Though he made good effort, he finished first. How could he not? You were practically strangling Ivy’s vine with both your fists, forcing it to go at the pace you wanted and to fuck you as hard as you wanted. Your tits bounced with every thrust. 

What took Jason over the edge was one word, one color, thrown in-between your breathless moans.

“ _Red._ ”

—

It took a few more minutes and another smaller vine rubbing your clit to get you to orgasm.

In the meantime, Jason was stuck in post-nut clarity.

He felt disgusting and ashamed. 

Was this another one of Ivy’s fucked up tests from the past? How could he objectify you when you were clearly reenacting your past trauma? How could he have thought of his trauma and gotten hard? Did hearing about your hurt get him off?

He thought he needed your help for his mission. He didn’t know he wanted to fuck you.

His thoughts focused on self-hated and confusion until he heard the leaves rustle, alerting him to another presence.

“Long time no see, Red,” Ivy smiled. “How about you lay with us and get some sleep?”

He followed her to the bed of roses and laid himself to rest.


	7. Expose vs Exposé

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You reflect on the first time you encountered the Red Hood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: sexual themes, adult language

Days and nights after your encounter with Ivy, Jason couldn’t get you out of his head. The way your hips rolled, the bite of your lips. He thought about that crack in your voice and how you sounded so sad.

When he thought back to the bed of roses, he thought about the hazy mist and floral perfume, how sexy you looked, asleep from orgasm.

Jason Todd rarely had wants in life and the Red Hood only had needs after his death. Jason Todd didn’t want to be brought back to life. Red Hood needed to prevent what happened to him to happen to others.

He felt that connection with you, held back by trauma. The spaces where he shoved all of his pain and hurt in were the same spaces you shared. He needed to move beyond that space but also understood how easily it was to keep going back.

He needed to watch you come undone as you worked through it, as you rewrote the script of what happened to you. As much as you needed that release, he did too.

What he didn’t expect was how badly he needed- no, _wanted_ \- to hear how you thought of him too in that moment of liberation.

It was a long time since he felt connected to someone and he needed more.

—

Red? Red. Red, red, red, red, _red_.

Why did you say that word when you came a few nights ago?

Red, like the roses your face was pressed against? Red, like Ivy’s hair in the moonlight? Red, like your ass when she spanked you? Red, like the blood that dripped down his hands when he- no, no, no, no, _no_. Not that red. _Definitely_ not that red. Red… Hood? Maybe.

Red is the color of guilt. Red is the color of sin. It’s the color of passion. It’s the color of anger. Blood. Sex. Sacrifice. Strength. Red is a warning. Of what, you didn’t know.

Red was the color of your life after what happened. You couldn’t remember any shade before then.

—

You thought about how the Red Hood became more involved in your life.

You were in one of your moods again. Unsure if you wanted to leave this life of sort-of crime and live a normal life or if you just wanted to keep going till you got caught. It wouldn’t make a difference either way.

You were working as a journalist. Working with sleazy tabloids usually gave you a hint of something interesting to follow up on, but you also spent a lot of time sifting through bullshit and gossiping about nothing in particular.

—

It was several months ago.

Jason was bored. He rarely had free time and when he did, he simply didn’t know what to do with himself.

He remembered Dick talking about Googling himself a few months ago. Apparently people were obsessed with the Wayne family and writing sensational articles were an easy way to make a quick buck in Gotham.

He Googled his name. Nothing recent popped up, but he wasn’t surprised. He was still legally dead.

He typed in “Red Hood” into the search bar. To his surprise, there were _hundreds_ of hits for this identity: unlicensed Red Hood merch, fan art, fan fics…?

_Does Red Hood have an OnlyFans account?_ The third most popular search.

An op-ed from the Gotham Tribune was just posted two hours and forty-three minutes ago: “Caught Red-Handed: How One Hoodlum is Helping Gotham’s Underprivileged.”

He had several hours before he had to intercept a weapons shipment at the docks. Might as well have a quick read to pass the time.

“A knight with a shining helmet. The Red Hood is a new vigilante who’s done more for Gotham’s lower class than Batman, on par with Bruce Wayne.”

Jason snorted. If only they knew how much B _truly_ did. And Jason? He was just getting started.

“The outlaw has been sweeping the scum of Gotham’s streets with more violent means compared to Batman or any of his associates. But are his methods necessarily wrong? No. The gentle handling of criminals by Batman and Gotham PD is the reason Gotham’s crime persists…”

Jason didn’t return from the dead as the Red Hood for the praise. He knew his methods would receive backlash from his crime-fighting family. He didn’t even want to work this way, but harsher means needed to be done in order to control the crime in Gotham.

It felt good to be acknowledged by someone. To remind him that his mission was worth it.

He finished the article and Jason clicked the link to more of the writer’s work.

It seemed like their work varied: “The Problematic Nature of Hero Worship,” “Top 10 Superhero Ass Shots,” an article on the Gotham Knights’ loss.

Maybe it was curiosity, maybe it was boredom. He used his database to look you up.

No criminal records found. A barely active Instagram account.

Surveillance footage showed you coming out of a store, in the midst of a Gotham winter, arms full of thick coats and socks, handing them out to kids in Crime Alley.

He zoomed in your face. _Cute._

Your writer identity was linked to a cell phone that provided GPD with anonymous tips. Police reports involving your tips also came up.

Strange, Jason thought, that the person who’s compiling pictures of superheroes’ asses had this information and willingly gave it up despite the potential retaliation.

Jason was curious.

—

Your shitty day was extending to a shitty night. Another day where you had to hear Mikaela talk about her dumb fucking kids, another day without any interesting leads on info you could sell.

Your laptop screen stared back at you mockingly. There weren’t any postings either on the dark web.

You gave an exaggerated sigh and leaned back in your chair. At least you were alone in the office now. Though the cubicles were meant to give some semblance of privacy, your other coworkers had a tendency to invade your space throughout the day.

You wanted to take off your wig and scrub the heavy makeup off your face. You were tired of wearing this mask.

You grabbed the yoga mat from the corner and unraveled it ungracefully on the floor.

You were tired of dragging it with you every Tuesday and Thursday to create the image of a “young, fit journalist with a hunger for the latest scoop.” You cringed. You couldn’t believe you said that during your interview.

You laid down on the mat. Who would even think you went to yoga after work? Your purse was big enough to hold your wallet, keys and laptop only; no room for spare clothes. You always wore skirts or dresses paired with heels. You definitely didn’t think this persona through yet no one’s doubted you so far.

If you didn’t have your head to ground you wouldn’t have heard it. The thud, thud, thud of someone walking towards your office.

_What now?_

You closed your eyes, not bothering to get up. Your legs were spread wide open, skirt hiking up your thighs. It was exhausting trying to keep them together. You made a mental note to wear more dresses.

They stopped in front of you.

_I swear to God, if it’s Tony trying to get a glance, I’m going to report his ass to HR._

“Hey sweetheart. I think you’re misunderstanding investigative journalism here. This isn’t what your boss meant when he said he wanted an exposé. I don’t mind the view though.” 

The scrambler gave the deep voice a robotic tone but you could still hear the underlying teasing. 

You sat up and moved your legs beneath you, blushing. Your skirt was still hiked up and you felt self-conscious about the Red Hood still probably being able to see your panties.

_How embarrassing._

You cleared your throat. “I’m sorry but did you need something?” 

You looked up at him. 

He was tall and imposing. _Ripped._ The Kevlar and overhead lighting were definitely favorable. His biceps and delts bulged through his leather jacket. His thighs were thick and strong, accentuated by his thigh holsters. 

He offered you a gloved hand to help you stand up, which you took.

“I was just curious as to why I didn’t make it onto your list of ‘Top 10 Superhero Ass Shots’.”

You backed up against your desk, being mindful to obscure your laptop screen with your body.

You took care to smooth out your blouse and skirt, running a hand through your hair.

“I don’t believe that’s _all_ you’re here for, but if you give me a little twirl,” you wagged your finger in a small circle, “Maybe I can add an honorary mention.”

He obliged and gave you a small turn, arms raised in show. He ended in a curtsey.

“Ta-dah.” He said in a flat voice.

“Hm, not bad.” Not bad _at all_. Years of training shaped Jason’s ass, making it firm and perfectly sculpted. “I’ll consider it. Now what else do you want?”

“I read your article,” Jason started, suddenly feeling a bit stupid.

Why did he have to go all the way to her office to say thank you? Why did he feel the need to say thank you for some kind words? Was he really that bored?

You noticed the hesitation. Did he really take a short break from crime fighting to say that?

You looked at him directly and said in a gentle voice, “You’re welcome.”

—

You thought about the memory and smiled.

You didn’t want the Red Hood in your life, you realized. You needed him. You needed the hurt to stop, the crime to stop. But you understand that it couldn’t and it wouldn’t. It could only be controlled. The Red Hood provided that to Gotham.

—

Jason needed to feel the wind against his flushing face, his helmet encapsulating the heat of his embarrassment.

He was lost in his thoughts as his motorbike sped towards the docks.

Yes, the meeting was awkward but it confirmed his suspicions at least. Jason had already seen your screen before you tried to cover it up: a hidden forum on the internet where criminals solicited illegal goods or services. He had used the website a few times before.

You were up to no good, but Jason would have to wait it out and see just how bad you were going to be.


	8. Seduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason thinks about your motives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: smut, adult language

It wasn’t in the comfort of the manor that Bruce told Jason about his raging teenage hormones. He didn’t mention Jason’s web browser history or anything about safe sex and contraception.

It was in the cave- cool, damp, and dark- where Bruce educated Jason on sex.

Rather than father to son, Bruce gave Jason the sex talk as Batman and Robin. Full gear on. Batman’s deep, gravelly voice reverberated against the cave walls. 

“Seduction, Robin,” Batman lectured in front of the computer, “comes from the Latin word ‘seduco.’ ‘Se’ meaning aside, astray. ‘Duco’ to lead.”

“To lead astray,” Jason finished.

—

Jason let the door to his safe house slam shut. Once completely closed, he threw his helmet on the table with force; it skid across the table’s surface and landed on the floor with a dull thud.

Jason was getting frustrated with Black Mask. He needed more evidence against him yet it seemed like the crime lord was always one step ahead, leading Jason to dead ends.

He threw himself on the worn leather couch and sighed. He needed a distraction.

He thought back to that girl he met at Gotham University. Such a fucking tease.

“Seduction can be hard on the target,” Batman paused. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy the agent’s process _after_ our mission is complete.”

With his pants down and a half-hard cock, he recalled the way her body looked- her ass, the way she teased him with her pussy. He thought of her lip gloss and the sound of her heels against the floor.

He pulled out his cock completely, giving it a few soft strokes. The dirty thoughts started the job, but the actual friction caused Jason’s cock to get fully hard.

Jason knew better than to be distracted by that collegiate while he was working. He knew better than to submit before her and earn some extra credit himself.

He thought about how she leaned back on the desk, baring her clothed sex for him to see. He thought about the teases of cheeks as her skirt swayed and when she bent over.

He stroked faster, precum starting to leak at the swollen tip. He knew if he kept going at this pace he would cum soon, so he slowed down.

Jason wanted to get on his knees, then and there, and kiss every inch of her thighs.

He thought about her face as she would look down from him, as she guided him towards her center. Would his glasses fog up from the heat? He thought about licking her through her thong, sucking on the fabric to taste every drop of her sweetness. Her hands would shove him closer to her, tangled in his dark tresses, glasses askew.

Thinking about what kind of faces she would make, the volume of her moans, made Jason stroke faster once again.

After teasing her, he’d finally push her underwear aside and lap at her clit.

She’d be breathing heavy and begging for more. Her voice was higher but it reminded Jason of yours. He thought back to when he watched you with Ivy, remembering your erratic breathing pattern and whines, the sounds of your moans.

Sweat dripped down his brow as he got closer towards the end. He bit his lip.

_Yeah, that’ll work._

He’d slip a finger in at first but he knew you could handle more. You’d probably take out his finger completely. The digit would come out with a wet pop, his finger cold from the sudden lack of warmth. Then you’d guide his hand back, teasing your slit before taking _three_ fingers.

Jason let out a throaty groan.

“It’s so fucking hot when you take charge like that, babe,” he breathed out.

With more fingers inside you, you’d move your hips in sync with his thrusts. That short little skirt you’re wearing would be pooled at your waist.

Jason’s ministrations would make your pussy drip, covering his entire hand. He didn’t give a fuck if you got the research papers wet. All that mattered was that he was the reason for your desire, the cause of your orgasm.

His intense want for you and the image of you cumming for him was too much for Jason. Milky white cum covered his hand and shirt.

He wiped his hand on his shirt and carefully removed it, being mindful not to get his cum everywhere. As he got up to throw his shirt in the laundry basket, he wondered when he turned that sexy college coed into you.

—

Jason tried to visit Alfred when he knew no one was around. He and his siblings still weren’t a hundred percent comfortable with each other after everything that happened between them.

Dick was stuck at a stakeout in Blüdhaven. Bruce had to attend to Wayne Enterprise affairs in the Diamond District with Tim. He didn’t really know what Cass was up to, but she rarely spent her free time at home. Damian was in school. Duke was undercover with The Outsiders.

Jason felt relieved he wouldn’t have to interact with Tim. Though he had mostly worked through the pain of being replaced, Jason still had complex feelings towards Tim, which he didn’t want to deal with now.

“Hey Alf,” Jason stepped into the kitchen. He was looking down at his phone, “I was thinking we could try making Earl Grey macarons with a dark chocolate sea salt ganache…”

He looked up from his phone. Instead of Alfred, there sat Bruce at the head of table. He still had his suit on.

“Afternoon, Jason.” Bruce still had his suit on, so his meeting must have ended early.

_Shit, is Tim here?_

“Hey Bruce, where’s Alfred?”

“I asked for a moment of privacy, so I could talk to my son.”

Jason internally winced. The word cut into his skin. As much as he desperately craved that parental love, close familial terms like that still made him uncomfortable. It reminded him of how easily their familial bond could be taken from him. How one fuck up could make Bruce cast him off forever.

He wasn’t sure of what he did now. He played by Bruce’s rules. No one’s died so far.

He took a seat one chair away from him. He’d need space in case either of them got heated.

“I’m concerned about your interest in that info dealer.”

What? _What?_ Why?

“I don’t see the benefit of you recruiting her for your cause.” Jason didn’t bother asking Bruce how he knew of his intentions.

“First of all, her methods of extraction are _slightly_ above average. Second of all, she rarely deals useful information or information that I could otherwise get myself.”

Jason felt his temper rise but kept his voice calm voice. “Bruce, I thought this was about me. Not how you’re _so_ superior to her. You’re fucking _Batman_.”

“Jason, if you need to use the Batcomputer you can. I trust that you know the stipulations if you do use it.”

“I thought we agreed that our methods were different. That the world could use an _outlaw._ Quit it with the control bullshit B, and speak to me honestly.”

Bruce looked down at the worn oak table. How many nights did he spend arguing with Jason when he was younger? The kid had a way of frustrating him with his directness.

“I’d like you to consider the notion of her honey trapping you, kiddo. You know nothing about this woman.”

Bruce showed a brief glimpse of discomfort. “I understand that your sexual relations with others have been _lacking_ since you came back. I worry that you might be in denial of your true intentions.”

Jason had flashbacks to their “sex talk.”

Honey trapping is a method of investigation where a field operative may use sexual or romantic methods in order to gain info or advantage over the target.

“You’re seriously telling me that you think I want to _fuck_ her because I haven’t been laid in a while? That that’s all she’s good for? You just called her slightly above average yet somehow she suddenly leveled up and is gonna honey trap me to expose us all?”

Jason was fuming.

“Poor broken Jason Todd can’t make decisions for himself. He has shitty taste. So he should use Daddy’s computer instead of working independently and making decisions for himself to meet his own agenda.”

He knew he was letting his anger get to him but he didn’t care.

“Actually he should just come back to Daddy and continue playing house with the other baby bats. Remember the last time I tried to be independent and go my own way, _Dad_? I got a booboo from a crowbar and fucking _died_. ”

He pushed back against the heavy wooden chair with a screech and stood up.

“All I ask is that you at least entertain this thought and try not to compromise your identity or ours.”

Jason let the front door of the manor slam.

“Sorry Alf,” he texted, “Let’s reschedule. Maybe we can meet at one of the safe houses -J.”

—

As much as Jason hated to admit it, Bruce was right in pointing out that he knew nothing about you. Jason knew your fake names, fake histories but he swears that when you two meet, it’s the _real_ you.

In his rage, Jason became hyper-focused on tracking you. He looked at the file he had on you. It consisted of all your aliases, photographs of you in different get ups. There was no pattern for how you appeared when doing exchanges, no frequently used meeting places. You had burner phones and a VPN for internet use.

When he tried to find info on you from known gangs you’ve worked with they all gave the same answer: you looked for them.

His best bet was meeting at your rendezvous point, keeping himself hidden and tailing you from there.

—

Jason found himself in a cigar smoked-covered lounge a night later after his fight with Bruce.

“Black dress with a deep V cut, sucking on a strawberry-flavored lollipop.” You said through the comm link that Jason intercepted.

He shifted in his seat, swirling the ice in his drink. He felt bare. To be less conspicuous, he opted for his red domino mask and a body suit with a black bat instead of the classic red emblem he normally wore.

You’ve never seen this much of face. He wondered what you would think and why he even cared.

He played the scenario in his head.

He’d follow you after the exchange and make an offer to work with him. If you said no, he’d built enough of a case to get you jail time for extortion. Enough time so he could rethink the situation. If you said yes, he’d take you back to the safe house and throw you on the bed to- wait, _no_. He’d show you his equipment, tell you his goals, and you’d get to work immediately.

Bruce’s voice rang in his head: “Seduction is a form of control over the target.”

—

You felt self-conscious. It wasn’t your clothes, your makeup or your hair. You were just worried about running into _him_.

You admitted that you needed him, but you were embarrassed to say that it was in more ways than one. This sudden self-awareness made you nervous for your next confrontation with Red Hood.

You followed the host down the hall to the VIP area. The dim lighting of the VIP rooms were perfect for concealing your identity.

Before the area divided into curtained booths, there was a small ten-seater bar. The haze of the cigar smoke added an extra layer of security. While approaching the area, you saw a tall, buff man with a brown leather jacket and dark colored hair. His back was turned towards you as he was seated at the end. Two seats to the left of him, you saw two of Two-Faces goons. At the other end was another individual, their face buried in a pint of dark ale.

You sat yourself closer to the far end of the bar but still towards the middle. You ordered a strawberry mojito and asked for a red sucker as a stirrer. You pulled out your burner phone to kill time, not bothering to make eye contact with the other bar patrons. You didn’t want to bring unnecessary attention to yourself.

While your drink was being made, more women walked in. All in tight black dresses. One of the dress codes of this lounge included wear black dresses, making it easier for you to blend in with others.

Jason looked at the group of four girls that just walked in. He figured you were the one who sat down alone. Why would you come in a group anyway?

But one of the girls of the group had some semblance to you. He waited to see what they would order.

—

You swirled the red sucker in your mojito, watching the cocktail turn from clear to a rosy pink.

You felt the eyes of the man at the end of the bar but didn’t dare to meet his gaze. He didn’t fit the description of who you were waiting for so there wasn’t any point in engaging.

“Strawberry sucker?” A muffled baritone voice asked.

You looked up. Exactly who you were looking for.

“Hey boys,” you greeted them as you slid out of your seat. You left cash in front of your vacant spot.

“Care to take the lead?” You motioned them towards the booths with the lollipop.

—

“I take it you’re here for the information on Faye Gunn?” you said as you slid in.

Their masks showed no expression and they remained silent.

You reached into your purse and pulled out a flash drive.

“Well, I have the file here, but I need my payment first.”

They remained motionless.

As the silence grew more uncomfortable, you stood up to leave, annoyed.

“Look, if Black Mask doesn’t need the info anymore, just tell me. I don’t need to have my time wasted any more than it already is.” You pointed the sucker at them.

“Mistress,” you cringed, “Forgive us for our silence. We were waiting for your permission to speak.”

“Speak then. _Time and place_ for your BDSM bullshit. I’m trying to do _business_.” You raised your voice.

Jason got a booth catty-corner from yours. It seemed you were getting frustrated with Black Mask’s goons.

The one who was still silent slid over a band of $100 bills.

“For compensation, please use our bodies however you see fit.”

You felt your chest rise and fall dramatically. What the _fuck_?

“Listen here, you fucking gimps,” Ugh, why did you say that? They probably got a boner just from that word alone.

“Don’t ever talk to _me_ , or _any_ non-consenting person, like that ever again.”

You left in a huff, leaving the flash drive on the table and shoving the band of money into your purse. You made your way towards the exit.

—

You leaned against your car door and sighed. It was relatively late and no sane person would be caught in Gotham at this hour. Peace and quiet.

You wanted to shower after talking to Black Mask’s henchmen.

_Repulsive.  
_

You fucking hated unplanned sexual interactions. It brought up bad memories. _  
_

You didn’t want to shame their kink. Hell, you felt like you were pretty kinky yourself. Also you would never drop it on someone unsuspecting, _especially_ when trying to make a business transaction.

You had to think if you wanted to do business with Black Mask again.

You stared at your hand, the red candy still in it.

“Why do I even have this?” You said to no one, “ _Right_. I’m a fucking sucker.” You put it back in your mouth.

“A sucker for me?”

You straightened up as you stared at the figure emerging from the shadows. You pulled the said candy out of your mouth with a wet pop.

Thank God Jason brought his helmet and started the recorder before approaching you.

He memorized the hollow of your cheeks and the way your mouth slowly loosened its grip on the candy. The release made the noise he imagined while fingerfucking you. He felt the blood start rushing downwards. He hoped the recording would catch how wet it was and the thin string of saliva that connected it to you.

You licked your lips as you stared at him.

“I don’t fuck with Dum-Dums.”

It had been awhile since you two were this close. He was less than an arm’s reach away.

“I know you just gave info to Black Mask. Your actions are quite contradictory to what you wrote about me months ago.”

He moved closer, leaning over to whisper in your ear, one arm using the roof of the car as support.

“You _really_ got me fucked up when you did that, sweetheart.”

Your knees wanted to buckle when you heard him say that f-word. And _sweetheart_? If you had a choice, you’d choose something more obscene, but sweetheart would do for now. The proximity and the buildup of double-entendres were getting you wet.

He moved away from you, searching your face for a reaction.

You smiled mischievously and gave the lollipop a quick suck before finally throwing it on the ground.

“Have you _ever_ thought, Red,” You reached a hand to his chest, lightly trailing down before stopping at his belt. “That maybe I _enjoy_ fucking with you?”

“That maybe… I want to fuck you?”

You couldn’t believe how bold you were being. But Red Hood had a way of making your horny like you wouldn’t believe and you wanted the disgusting feelings those goons made you feel to go away.

He just stood there. _Nothing._

You pulled away to get into your car and he moved out of your way.

You couldn’t handle the rejection on top of the other emotions you were feeling tonight.

—

“Seduction, Robin, is meant to divert us from our mission. It’s meant to distract us from our goals.”


	9. Dumb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your crush on the Red Hood has you feel dumb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: sexual themes, mentions of sexual trauma but nothing detailed, adult language

Jason thought back to his Robin training.

“The worst thing you could do is react. Knowing they can cause any reaction within you signals that you’re susceptible to their maneuvers.”

He thought about your provocations.

You suggested that you enjoyed fucking with him. You also suggested that you’ve thought about fucking him, the video replay reminded him.

You were definitely trying to get a reaction out of him.

He admitted that you two did exchange rather suggestive banter, but you’ve never said anything as bold as that before.

Why were you suddenly so daring now? Was Bruce right?

—

You walked into one of your few safe houses, emotionally exhausted.

It was a studio but it was cozy. Like all of your other places, you decorated it with Swedish minimalism in mind. Simple, pure and calm. Constantly pretending to be someone else could be over-stimulating and the muted colors and simplicity of your living space helped eased that.

You rubbed your temples after you threw your wig on the couch. You undid your hair from its tie and unzipped your dress, dressed only in your underwear. You fell back on your bed, sinking into the fluffy pale grey comforter.

Tonight was unexpected. You liked control and order. You didn’t carefully curate your exchanges to have two gimps fuck it up for you.

At least you got the money.

Another sigh.

You lifted your purse off of your shoulder and took out the cash. You counted it back. _Nine thousand eight hundred, nine thousand nine hundred, ten thousand._ All there.

Your thoughts wandered to Red Hood and you felt your face flush with embarrassment. Fanning out the money, you used it to cool yourself down.

Sure, you two flirted every chance you had, but neither of you ever directly stated your feelings.

What were your feelings anyway? Lust? A crush?

You felt dumb. You were too old to have crushes, too selfish to care about others.

What was the point of having a crush on a vigilante anyway? It was actually counterintuitive to your life’s work. A relationship with the Red Hood could only go in two ways: he sends you to prison or you get together but your criminal past or his line of work puts you and him at risk of danger.

Was it the thrill of the chase that you made you so explicit? If Batman said what Red Hood said, would you react the same? What about with Nightwing? Red Robin?

Maybe it was just his personality.

Red Hood flirting with you could have merely been fun and games. You knew for a fact that the world of crime was a sausagefest. He was probably bored.

_Yeah, it was just fun and games._ He didn’t really want you anyway.

—

Jason was surprised that you actually parked in front of your apartment building, that you even _lived_ in an apartment building. He was so used to safe houses and living in abandoned buildings that were renovated. The thought of you having to pay rent every month almost made him laugh.

The spot you parked in was registered to a woman who _could_ fit your description. About the same age. Was that your real birthday? Your real name? Occupation: PA. He knew you masqueraded as a personal assistant at wealthy Gotham corporations for a bit.

You made tracking you too easy and Jason was a bit disappointed in your carelessness.

Roy had given Jason several nano cameras.

“Ya know, for when you finally meet the one and ya need to get your LOVEINT on.” He grinned.

Back in 2013, some NSA staffers used their skills in intelligence gathering to spy on their love interests and spouses, gathering love intelligence, hence its shortened form.

Jason rolled his eyes at the memory.

He planned on placing one by your window, a few by your front door and surrounding areas. When you left, he’d break in and place more inside your studio.

This was purely for business and to prove Batman wrong.

—

Over the next two weeks, Jason watched the cam feed in your apartment in-between blowing up cargo ships and gathering more evidence against Black Mask.

It seemed like your schedule was irregular. Sometimes you’d be there for a couple of hours, then you’d be gone for a few days, only to spend the next three nights straight there.

If Jason didn’t know that you collected and sold info to kingpins, he would consider you pretty boring.

You walked in. If you wore pants, you took them off. After, it was your bra. You lounged often in your underwear, listening to music or watching tv. How did you even gather your intel, lazing around so often?

He often found himself fastforwarding through the videos.

He stopped when he saw you with a man against the hallway leading up to your door.

—

You found yourself sighing more often these past two weeks. You knew it was from the sting of Red Hood’s rejection.

The shame of putting yourself out there. Your hurt pride.

You shouldn’t have been honest with him. You should have realized that you needed him to serve Gotham justice only, not have fantasies about him serving you dick on the side too. _Stupid girl._

You should have run away like you always do. It was easier than facing your feelings head-on.

To get your mind off of him, you tried dating. You were pretending to be someone else again but it was a good distraction from Red Hood’s non-reaction to your advances.

You focused back on what was happening now.

Your date had you pushed against wall, grinding into you. He had one of your legs lifted up, gripping your thigh hard, to gain closer access to your core. His kisses against your neck felt wet and slimy. He reeked of weed and whisky. Where did you find this guy again?

“I can’t wait to make you cum so hard, you won’t be able to walk for days.” He said.

You rolled your eyes. “Doubt it.”

“You wanna try it out?” He leaned in for a kiss on your lips.

You turned away. This felt gross.

“No, actually I _don’t_.” You pushed him off of you.

“I actually don’t want to do _anything_ with you. Fuck off.”

He looked mad and you almost regretted your words. You should have been complicit. You know nothing about this man and his ability to hurt.

“Are you fucking kidding me? After everything we did in the bar?”

What did you do in the bar? Oh. You sucked his dick in the bathroom. Not your best moment.

“I’m serious. Fuck off. _Now._ ”

Jason wasn’t sure if he should suit up or not.

It’d take at least 45 minutes to get to your apartment. Then after, he’d have to explain how he knew where you lived and pretend he was just helping some random civilian. He didn’t want to not take action and have something happen to you either.

The unknown man made the decision for him.

“I didn’t want to fuck you anyway. Ugly bitch.”

You stood there for several minutes after he left.

—

You stared at the woman in the monitor.

Tele-therapy sessions were much better than in-person sessions. It was harder to see your nervous tics on camera. If she got too personal, you could exit the screen, text her and say it was your internet connection. There were too many ways to escape.

“It’s like I want to be close to people, but once I’m actually there, it’s not that great. I often find myself wanting to just leave. I just don’t think being intimate in any capacity is for me.” You admitted.

“I don’t know why I said that. I have a habit of blurting out vulnerabilities and immediately regretting it after. I’m really uncomfortable right now.”

You made a reach to just close your screen entirely.

Jason should cut the feed but he needed to see where this was going.

“Please don’t.” You stopped.

“It’s good that you recognized your discomfort. What about being vulnerable makes you uncomfortable?”

You thought. “You’re too close to me.”

“Yet you found me trustworthy enough to disclose this information.”

“I thought you said we were in a safe space.”

“It is.”

You echoed her words. It was.

You looked at the succulent next to your computer. You didn’t make eye contact with the device, but Jason was nervous that you found him out. He felt somewhat guilty for listening in.

—

You surprised yourself when you picked up your therapist’s call the next day. You didn’t like that she could see your expressions, so you requested to talk on the phone instead.

“What about that encounter upset you?”

“Sex isn’t a safe encounter. It’s destructive, exploitative, obligatory for intimacy.”

More often than not, sex made you feel disgusted. You rarely sought it out yourself.

However, when offered, you hardly said no. Sex meant everything and nothing to you. It was just a thing you did when you were bored or lonely, or at least that’s what you told yourself.

It felt nice to know that someone wanted you. You liked being able to leave right after, no obligation to give more of yourself to that person than you wanted.

“You know I engage in sexually exploitive behavior? I blackmail rich dudes who take advantage of others sexually. To get them locked up so they can’t do it anymore. But aren’t I just another cog in the wheel?”

She gave a dismissive click of her tongue.

“Have you ever had sex out of pleasure? Out of love?”

You thought about your life after what happened.

When it came to sex, you never quite felt love. Just empty, if not empty then angry.

You never dwelled on the feelings of sex. If you thought too hard, the exchanged fluids and hygienics of sex made you a bit sick. Pleasure? It wasn’t bad. It just mostly felt like something you did, like going to the doctor, like putting on makeup.

You were silent.

“Sex can be empowering,” she pointed out. “It can be nurturing. Most importantly, it is _always_ a choice.”

You flinched when she said choice. Yeah, you didn’t have a choice when _that_ happened.

“Have you ever tried masturbating?”

You thought back to your last meeting with Ivy.

“Yeah, I hated it.” _Liar._

“Didn’t it feel good to finally release all of that sexual tension?”

You thought of all the could-have-beens with Red Hood over the past few months. You thought about how you thought of him when you came with Ivy. You thought about his rejection and felt that uncomfortable feeling in your stomach. Rejection is obviously painful, but this _really_ hurt.

If you hadn’t met him, if you had just ignored him, you wouldn’t be feeling any of the emotions you felt right now.

“Not really.”

“Well, please try to consider it again. I truly do think it would do you some good to get in touch with your body again.”

—

Jason listened to your therapist and thought. He also thought about Bruce’s words: “I worry that you might be in denial of your true intentions.”

True intentions?

How could he have sex with the life that he lived? How could he be intimate with anyone without putting them in danger?

He wanted intimacy and he wanted sex but he didn’t need it.

He thought about masturbating. It was often done out of necessity, to rid his head of the temporary distraction so he could focus on his goals. Sometimes he had invasive thoughts of what the Joker did and had to stop.

But lately his thoughts lead him back to you. Even after taking care of himself, they still went back to you.


	10. Frigid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have a surprise encounter at the Iceberg Lounge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: smut, adult language

You avoided going out at night unless it was to the bar to share a beer, a kiss or something more with any stranger who’d proposition you. You definitely did not work at night, avoiding alleyways and sketchy characters that you assumed would catch a crimefighter’s interest.

You looked further, past your companion’s shoulder at the tv set by the bar. You could only listen to her talk about her fashion start-up for so long before you were bored.

“The latest forecast for Gotham’s weather will be,” the weatherman stated. Shitty, per usual.

You looked back at your date.

You met her coincidentally at the coffee shop when you both reached for the same coffee stirrer. She blushed and stammered while you retracted your hand. Straight teeth, shiny hair. She was pretty cute.

As she droned on and on about the nuances of finding a garment that was truly peach and not too salmon, you gave her a few empty “hmm”s and “oh yeah?”s.

You looked towards the bar again.

The tv showed an anchorwoman now in front of a blocked off street on the East End. She pointed her microphone towards a sloppily-dressed middle-aged man.

“I heard terrible screams in the middle of the night. Nothing new. I rolled over. Then I realized I didn’t hear the usual gunshots that accompanied these types of screams. Just a loud, horrible snap.”

The camera panned back to the newswoman.

“Though it’s not confirmed, police speculate that it was the Red Hood who may have broken Pettucci’s femur. Pettucci recently…”

You looked down at the time on your phone. You would be late for your appointment if you didn’t leave now.

—

“I don’t know why I still talk to you.”

“Do you feel as if these meetings aren’t helpful for you?”

You didn’t know if it was helpful or unhelpful. You simply know that you didn’t have anyone to talk to about this.

“A couple of days ago, you asked me if I masturbate and if it felt good to release this” you created air quotation marks with your fingers, “sexual tension.”

Your therapist crossed her legs and leaned in towards the screen.

“See, the thing is, is if I actually lay down and think about it, think about him. If I start touching myself, then that means I want him, right?”

You thought about how you wished he would catch you in the bar and press his body against yours.

“But see, he doesn’t actually want me for me. And I just- I just can’t fucking stand, can’t bare the fucking thought of losing to someone like this. That someone holds my feelings hostage like this and I don’t mean shit to them. I’d rather not deal with it at all.”

“Rejection is a difficult emotion to process. It can falsely feed into our feelings of inadequacy, our false belief that we are not worthy, that we are undeserving of love.”

“Crushes, huh?” You laughed.

A crush? You?

It never crossed Jason’s mind that you could have a crush on someone. He also didn’t expect you to live in an apartment, so there was that. No wonder he hadn’t seen you at night and you were usually in your empty apartment. You were wallowing in self-pity from this rejection.

Jason felt somewhat envious towards you.

He couldn’t afford the luxury of crushes, apartments, of lying around in your underwear doing nothing for hours at a time.

He thought you both shared a similar lifestyle but the more he learned about you, the more he realized how different your lives truly are.

—

“You didn’t have to break his femur,” Bruce said over the secured line.

“If you’re upset about not engaging with your person of _interest_ for a few days, you know where she lives.”

Jason took the phone from his ear and looked back at the screen, considering if he should hang up on Bruce. Jason knew better than to snap back and tell Bruce to do something. Because Bruce actually would.

He clicked the button to end the call.

He thought about your so-called safe house.

When he initially planted the nano cameras, the thought of you catching him ran through his mind. He expected you to have at least _some_ form of security, something to alert you that there was an intruder, especially with your line of work.

He waltzed right in without a single alarm going off.

The apartment was simple and empty of any identifying information. No visible phones or laptops, no pictures, no credit cards, no mail anywhere.

To the right was a small kitchen that shared its space with your living room- a grey fabric couch and plain white table with a muted blue-grey rug beneath it. On the table was a lone succulent, its pink and jade leaves spilling over a plain terra cotta pot. He popped a camera amongst its leaves, checking if it would provide him with a good view of you. A large mirror and window that showed drab buildings made up the wall opposite the couch.

A white bookcase divided your living area from your bedroom. Alfred would have scolded you for leaving your large bed unmade.

He moved to your closet. Wigs of different colors stood on stands on the top shelf. He fingered through your assorted styles, pausing at select pieces: a floor-length marabou-trim baby pink robe with a silk ribbon at the waist (Did you pretend to be a black widow at some point?), an all-black mesh lingerie set complete with matching black stockings, and a high-waisted mini skirt.

Jason’s hand lingered on the skirt longer than the other garments. He gave the edge of the skirt a quick swat to watch how it swayed.

Your safe house wouldn’t give up any other secrets, so he made his way to leave.

—

You didn’t feel like going to My Alibi tonight, didn’t feel like dealing with grimy D-listers, didn’t feel like listening to their bitches and moans about getting beat up by Gotham’s finest.

You didn’t want the sweaty skin and vibrating bass of Sinners either, didn’t want to flirt with the bouncer to get in for free or check your drink for unwanted add-ons.

Instead you settled for the Iceberg Lounge instead- cool, classy, and if you looked through the glassy establishment _just right_ , you could find enough dirt to track something, someone for months.

“Maybe I can find a rich husband to take me out,” you mused aloud.

Jason wondered where you were going as you held several dresses against your body. He looked at the different women parade through your hall through the lens of the camera.

A wavy haired blonde in a tight burgundy mini dress. A redhead in a mid-length black mermaid dress. A brunette whose hair was tied back in a sleek ponytail, wearing a silk jumpsuit.

Each woman had their own pose, variations of your voice in different tones and different drawls, a slightly different mannerism than the last.

The last woman to walk through was his favorite.

Though Jason was mostly disappointed by how ordinary you were, he had to admit that he was impressed with how dedicated you were to your character of the day. You wore your wigs, your contacts, your makeup constantly while you were in your hideout. If you took off your wig, the heavy makeup and contacts still kept your identity secret. If your makeup was off, you kept your wig.

But there were rare instances where he’d catch you in your natural beauty.

In the early moments of your waking state, you’d sometimes make a stop in front of the succulent. You’d get close enough where Jason could memorize the curve of your smile, each lash that framed your eyes, the radiance of your skin without the cosmetics. Your hand would stifle a yawn as you languidly watered the plant.

When you’d turn from him, he’d watch the way the light played with the natural colors of your hair, how it’d highlight your silhouette. When you turned your back to him, he wanted to reach out to you and say, to ask, to speak, to use _any_ form of speech but the words were too real to form, too silly to say out loud.

Jason found this reaction to you unknown, strange, different. Uncomfortable.

_Completely undesirable_. Yet the desires of the heart could be difficult to manage.

The last woman to step in front of the lens was you in that natural, unpolished state.

You styled your hair in a way that looked neat but not overdone, its natural sheen reflecting off the apartment lights. The jewel tone of the dress complimented your complexion. Jason’s eyes followed your hands as you smoothed the dark sapphire dress, your hands focusing on your curves. There was a slit to the side that revealed one leg and Jason followed it down to your feet before giving you another once over.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, satisfied with your appearance.

“The Iceberg Lounge is gonna be nothing but a puddle once I step foot in there.”

Jason looked at his agenda for the night.

He could pencil in a drink and trolling Cobblepot after eight.

—

You listened to the singer croon. Her sultry voice resonated throughout the chilly lounge as the mellow tones of the piano and guitar carried her siren song.

You sat at a lone table for two, unsure if you’d welcome companionship for the night. You appreciated its location in the lounge however, perfect for eavesdropping and you’d be able to keep track of Oswald Cobblepot and his associates.

Jason watched from the bar as you took down your Tom Collins, playing with the cherry garnish in your mouth. He wasn’t sure of how many drinks you had, but he noticed how relaxed your shoulders were compared to usual.

You stared at the dark haired man before you, dazzled by his smile. He said he couldn’t help but notice you from the bar.

“How about I get us another drink and we can get to know each other more?” you suggested, getting ready to go to the bar before he could answer.

Jason watched as the slit on your dress teased your upper thigh. You were quickly approaching the bar and the only open space to order was next to him.

You felt warm as you leaned forward against the counter, starting to feel a slight buzz from the alcohol. You saw a dark beauty to the left of you. _Didn’t I tell him I’d get us another drink?_ Your eyes moved towards the bartender who was three people away, serving two men who you knew were affiliated with the Steel Sevens.

You didn’t mind having to wait, your body swaying with the music. Your potential companion for the night said nothing but you felt his eyes on you.

Jason expected to you to say something first. He knew you saw him. He watched your lips wordlessly mouth along to the siren’s song.

“I fall for you every time I try to resist you.”

Of course it could have been coincidence, but Jason knew how much thought you put into your interactions with others. Was this a setup? Have you known that he’s been watching you?

You should have been focusing on the man who was interested in you, but per usual, your thoughts drifted to the Red Hood. You looked down and sighed, missing his presence yet grateful for the space as you sorted out your feelings. Your dark thoughts were killing your buzz.

You glanced back at your silent partner. He seemed lost in his own thoughts as well. The bartender still hasn’t made his way over.

_Might as well work a little._

You got up to go towards Penguin’s play rooms. You had a few pieces of information you could sell.

—

Jason watched the familiar scene of you walking away again. You always end up running away from him.

He wondered why he was letting Bruce get under his skin lately. Because he’s right? Bruce always thought he was right or at least justified in his words and actions.

It could be a trap. It could be a coincidence. He thought of all the possibilities between you and him.

Jason made his decision.

—

You regretted not bringing a jacket as you shivered in the halls of Penguin’s backrooms. The sheer cold sobered you up with each step.

The attendant seemed on edge as they lead you down. They slowed at certain rooms before returning to their regular walking pace. You weren’t sure if they were looking for something or someone.

As they rounded a corner, you felt someone tug you from behind and place a gloved hand over your mouth so you couldn’t scream.

Was this a set up? You resisted the urge to struggle against them as they dragged you into an empty room.

The room was the size of a small bathroom and looked similar to the other backrooms you’ve been to. Marble walls and flooring and a small panel of chunky ice lining the wall. You weren’t sure how the Penguin maintained the ice but it was a constant fixture in this part of the Iceberg Lounge. A portion of the wall adjacent to the ice panel had a cut out that made a natural bench for sitting.

Your captor held you against their body as you stood in the cold room.

“Miss me?”

You knew that voice.

“Well I missed you.”

You were trying to process what was going on.

You told Red Hood you wanted to fuck him. He didn’t say anything or react at all, so your feelings got hurt. You avoided him for a little over two weeks. Now he captured you in his enemy’s lair and he’s saying that he missed you.

“Hey now,” he teased, “Don’t be so frigid. I said I missed you.”

Frigid? Your body felt warm against the Red Hood’s body, back flush against his perfect form. You felt fire beneath the hand he held you with. At this moment, you were anything but frigid.

“Listen here _, Red Hot,_ if I’m so damn frigid, why don’t you warm me up then?” You breathed, the hot air leaving a trace of fog at your suggestion.

It’s not that you completely hated the current situation you were in. The unanticipated sexual aspect of it wasn’t as annoying as you thought it would be. The Red Hood’s power over you was frustrating though.

Jason hesitated and that knot of rejection in your stomach began to tangle itself again. Why do you do this to yourself? You were beginning to feel sick.

His hand moved from your waist. Another pause.

A click, the sound of something releasing. Then a clink as something was placed on the ground.

“Turn around.” You obeyed his command.

You noticed the change in voice. It was clear, deep and commanding unlike the usual mocking robotic voice you were used to.

You knew his hair was dark from a previous encounter. You weren’t expecting a messy black mop. You thought about the guy at the bar. He ran his hand through his hair to fix his appearance, revealing more of his face.

Faint scars, a slightly crooked nose, a chiseled jaw. He was wearing that damn domino mask again so you still didn’t know what his eyes look like.

You smiled. You were right about him being a battle-scarred hottie though.

“Like what you see?” he asked dryly.

“Doesn’t feel so good to be objectified now, does it?” You closed any gaps there might be between your bodies.

He thought about his encounter with you and Ivy in the garden, feeling slightly guilty.

You couldn’t help but smile at the scowl you put on his face with your teasing, watching as his browns furrowed. You liked seeing his reactions to your taunts and teases. You liked having the upper hand and seeing him react the way you wanted.

Jason felt you staring at his lips.

“No kissing on the mouth,” he said sternly.

“What? You afraid that this wannabe-Elsa is gonna suck out your soul? Or do you want me to suck something else?” You teased again, lightly touching his chest.

His lips were a tight line now and his jaw was clenched. Then he smiled like a predator that finally cornered its prey. Devious.

You felt yourself backing up a few steps and felt the ice wall against your back. The cold fixture made you arch your back, presenting your tits to the Red Hood.

“I’d rather suck other parts of you first.” His voice dropped lower and you felt your heart skip a beat as his face moved closer to yours.

Jason leaned over you and broke off a chunk of ice from the wall.

Ice in hand, he tilted your chin up, looking into your eyes. You felt the cool water drip from your chin and make its way down towards your breasts. He used the melting piece to trace your lips slowly, leaving more wet trails downwards. He dragged the ice across your skin, making it burn as it touched hotter parts of you. He noted how the temperature difference left traces of red and pink across your skin.

Once the ice was nothing but a rapidly disappearing shard, he threw it away, shaking off any remnant droplets off his glove.

Then you felt his lips at the edges of your mouth. Not quite there but close enough. _No kissing_ , you reminded yourself as you resisted the urge to turn your face slightly towards him.

He made his way towards your neck, alternating between the tip and flat of his tongue. Jason nipped and sucked at random intervals. You whimpered in response.

As he got closer to the valley between your breasts, you felt him slide your dress off your shoulders, exposing your breasts to the cold air. The dress pooled soundless at your feet.

He turned and made himself comfortable on the marble seat and brought your body to him once again.

Further down now, he lapped at the cold water between your breasts before focusing his attention on your nipples. You felt yourself get aroused as his hot, wet mouth gently placed itself on your left nipple before sucking harder. He pinched the right in unison. You bucked towards him with each pinch. Your hands found themselves tangled in his hair.

“Didn’t think I’d be doing temp play with a vigilante this Wednesday night,” you murmured in-between moans.

“I’ve been thinking about what I want to do to these tits since our last meeting,” he growled, your nipple half exposed to the air. It tingled.

You felt more sensations further down as Red Hood kissed his way down your body. A gloved hand moved your thong aside and his thumb found its way to your clit. The leather felt cool at first and slowly warmed up as it created more friction against your body.

The sloppy circles his thumb made against your clit sent little shocks throughout your body but you craved for something more.

“This is nice,” you purred, “but I’m going to need something more filling.”

Seeing your expressions and tasting your skin was enough for Jason. Hearing you ask for more was sending him to the edge.

He felt a hand take his own as you guided his index and middle fingers to rub against your slit.

Exactly as Jason imagined.

He groaned. His cock strained against his protection, aching and throbbing, begging to be pet by you.

You took his two fingers easily. His kisses and pinches made you soak, easily lubricating the glove.

You guided him at first, using his hand like you did with Ivy’s vine. Your hips rocked in sync with the thrusts.

Jason licked his lips and groaned again. Not one to be bossed around, he began to fingerfuck you at the pace he wanted.

Jason’s touch was rougher than yours. Each thrust was on the border of pain and pleasure but you liked the way he fingered you. There was a desperate need in his touch that turned you on.

“If you think this feels good,” he panted, his voice raspy, “wait til you feel my cock stretch that pussy.”

His words made you melt. You felt yourself get closer to orgasm as his fingerfucking got rougher. So close, so close.

Then he stopped.

Your body felt hot, both from his stimulation and from your anger.

“Don’t stop,” you begged. You looked him in the eyes that were obscured by the mask.

“ _Please._ ”

You looked so cute to Jason.

Your eyes were big and your bottom lip quivered as you begged. Jason liked the way your tits bounced slightly with every pant. He noticed how you shifted your hips to create more friction against his hand.

“I thought you only wanted me to warm you up,” he teased.

“You’re an adult, aren’t you?” Jason went on. “I think you’re perfectly capable of finishing yourself off.”

You suddenly felt shy as his suggestion. Did the Red Hood want to watch? You could hardly orgasm when you were in the privacy of your own home, let alone in a small room below the Iceberg Lounge. Your desire was beginning to leave and make way for performance anxiety instead.

What could you do to even the playing field?

Jason watched your face flush, wondering what you could be thinking of.

“Only if you finish with me,” you shyly suggested.

You were sure he wouldn’t take your offer. What sane vigilante would get off with his enemy in the den of an even bigger enemy? There were so many breeches in security by taking off his helmet alone.

“Okay.”

_What?_

You missed the warmth his gloved hand provided against your sex but you appreciated the sight of the Red Hood slowly undressing.

He stood up, reminded you of how big he was compared to you. Jason unbuckled his belt slowly, too slow, and you wanted to remove it for him.

As you saw a peak of his Adonis belt, you heard a loud explosion. You flinched as Jason looked towards the door.

To kill two birds with one stone, Jason had set up a bomb in a backroom that was reserved for the Panessa family tonight prior to finding you at the bar. They were attempting to strike a deal with the Penguin so they could get one of their associates released from Black Gate early.

_Sometimes you’re your own worst enemy._

He hastily grabbed his helmet as you hurriedly got dressed.

“Avoid using the employee exits to leave,” he called out from his shoulder as he ran out the door. You heard another explosion but this one sounded further away.

“We’ll pick up where we left off next time.”


	11. The Wait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: smut, adult language

Claustrophobia and panic set in as patrons and employees of the Iceberg Lounge rushed to get out of the building. Faint smoke wafted through the air and the fire alarm and sprinklers were set off. The Red Hood created a cacophony of chaos and you knew he would be on the Penguin’s shit list, if he wasn’t already on it.

The night air hit you as you finally left the building. News anchors and cameramen mingled with firemen and EMTs. Clusters of people stood in the parking lot trying to process what just happened.

Your eyes scanned the crowds for any flashes of red- none. The Red Hood wasn’t one to be in the public eye.

Jason hid in the cover of shadows, straddling his motorcycle, waiting to leave. Before he could leave, he needed to make sure you left the lounge safely. He told himself that he couldn’t allow his potential business partner to get caught in the crossfire before they struck their alliance.

You looked slightly disheveled as your eyes searched for something. Jason wasn’t sure if it was your previous engagement, the bomb detonations or a combination of both that contributed to your look.

He waited until the ride you hailed was a few hundred feet away before taking off, certain you would head straight home.

—

Jason watched as you walked towards your apartment. Your ride share stopped about a block away from your place and he wondered why you would walk alone so late at night. Were you waiting for him?

You couldn’t get to your apartment soon enough. As fear left, horniness settled in. During your short car ride, you replayed tonight’s events in your mind.

_I just got fingerblasted by the Red Hood in Penguin’s lair._

You needed the cool air of the night to help you think straight.

You thought he rejected you, that he was a flirt because he was bored. Yet even after you avoided him, he showed up, told you the words you wanted to hear and made sexual advances towards you instead of the other way around.

There was a possibility that this could be a game, but right now, you didn’t care. You were too high off the feelings of acceptance and lust.

As you got closer to your building, you paused at the alley between your building and the next. You had no way of knowing if he would be there but your usual rendezvous were done under the cover of night and privacy.

You stepped closer to the alley, stopping right before it was overtaken by darkness. You weren’t sure if it was him, but you felt something there.

As you peered into the alley, you were reminded of one of your previous encounters with him when he first started flirting with you and when you first noticed his absence in your life.

A part of you wished you quashed your feelings then and there so you wouldn’t be in your current situation. The more you breeched the distance between you, the more the spaces became closer and intimate, the more claustrophobic you felt. That heavy suffocation scared and excited you. The rational part of you wanted to run away out of self-preservation but your daring, more courageous heart wanted to chase this dizzying state.

“If you were serious about you said earlier,” you called out to the shadows, “You know where to find me.”

You turned to leave, unsure if your message made it to him.

—

You moved slowly, giving the situation time to unfold.

You were certain he knew the location of at least one of your safe houses. You admitted that you weren’t the most cautious when it came to your own safety as of late. In fact, you’d even consider yourself being a little sloppy for the past couple of months. Ever since the incident, you’d live in a constant state of hypervigilance. Months of broken sleep and paranoia wore you down though. You thought your lax attitude towards your safe house was a sign of healing. You hoped it wouldn’t be something you regret.

You showered, regrettably scrubbing every inch of you. Red smelled surprisingly cozy, like a library of well-loved books, sweet and rich. He reminded you of your favorite vanilla and tobacco candle, which was often lit as a source of comfort during winter nights.

You laid down in your bed, hair still damp, naked. What you thought was a long shower was only ten minutes. _Give him time_. You resisted the urge to peer through the window that was behind the head of your bed.

Another ten minutes went by without any indication that the Red Hood accepted your offer.

Gingerly, you brought the wrist he grabbed earlier to your face. You felt perverted smelling it, trying to see if there were any traces of his scent left but the water had washed it all away.

You couldn’t just lie in your bed, waiting for him to come. You went to your closet and fingered through your sets of lingerie, halting at a black one. The mixture of lace and mesh felt comfortable on your skin and it made you feel sexy that one time you wore it for a job.

You wondered when the last time you truly felt sexy was. You knew how to play sexy when you were in character, trying to get intel. You knew how to play coy and honey trap your targets. You knew how to make them want you, beg for you, how to make them spill their darkest desires. Those women weren’t _you_ though.

Too often, you were afraid to feel sexy as your real self, afraid it might attract unwanted attention. When you did want to feel attractive, you had to mentally prepare yourself for it, go over the scenarios in your head, plan an escape if things went wrong. Every detail had to be perfect and under your control.

There were only so many details you control though. You couldn’t make Red Hood come here. You couldn’t control how he felt about you or his motivations. But tonight you resolved to feel sexy, for yourself.

You bent down to grab a box towards the bottom corner of your closet before walking towards the living room.

You set the box aside on the couch before moving towards your coffee table.

The feed from the nano camera became unstable as it seemed the plant was being jostled around. Jason saw blurred images of you and certain parts of your safe house. The disorientation finally stopped.

You decided to leave the plant on the table. You were just moving it as an excuse to delay your original intentions.

You moved to the couch, sitting up stiffly and uncertain. The moonlight highlighted your straight form and the soft slopes of your breasts and hips. You glanced at the box next to you. The box was for a special occasion and though unplanned, tonight fit that criteria.

Jason watched as you placed the inconspicuous box in your lap, laying the lid on the ground. You pulled out a large dildo out of the box. It was thick with a distinctive, large head. The length was above average, Jason estimated it might be smaller than himself though. The girth of the cock matched his own, however. Some veins lined the length of the dildo to give it a more realistic look.

It seemed intimidating when you held it in your hands. You’ve taken dicks bigger than this before, but there was something daunting about having to handle this large toy by yourself.

You thought back to what your therapist said: “Start off in a comfortable position.”

You chose the couch instead of the bed because you knew you’d be glued to window anyway, eyes searching the night to see if your invitation was accepted. You pulled the table closer so your feet could rest against it easily.

Jason watched with excitement as you adjusted the distance between you, bringing him closer, then further, then closer again with every push and pull. With the click of his mouse, the feed was streaming on his largest computer screen. He wanted to see you as if he was actually there.

“I should have known he wouldn’t have come.”

Jason felt a pang of guilt. He had already decided in the alley that he wouldn’t see you or do anything for the rest of the night. He needed to be purposeful with his actions towards you. He knew that what you two did in the Iceberg Lounge would lead to further clouded judgement.

You laid length-wise on the couch. Jason licked his lips as the backwards motion made your tits bounce. His mouth already missed the taste of your skin, the feel of your nipple in his mouth.

You closed your eyes, trying to replay what happened in the Iceberg Lounge in your head.

You remembered Red’s strong, hard body holding you against him. Your hand trailed down your chest to your hip and squeezed where he grabbed you. You brought your hand upwards to roughly grab your breast, pinching your nipple. It didn’t hold the same charge as his touch. You missed the feeling of cool leather against your skin.

Jason needed to know what and who you were thinking about. Who filled you up with so much desire? A jealous pang hit his chest at the thought of it being someone other than him. Since when did he want to be the only one you thought of like this?

He slid his boxers off and leaned back against the computer chair, waiting with bated breath for your next movement. His member stood tall and proud against him, sore from the previous confinement against his protection. 

“I missed you too, Red,” you said quietly, still trying to focus on the memory and sensations. You could tell through the scrambler that he was teasing you. He said he missed you. Twice. Hearing that made you want him more.

After hearing his true voice, you ached to hear more of it. You wanted to hear more words, more sentences, more taunts. You wanted to hear him rasp out your name in the throes of your passion.

_Oh?_

Jason resisted the urge to start stroking himself, knowing he would blow his load too soon. His fingers twitched. He wanted to savor the scene before him. Jason wanted to finish himself with you, just like you had asked him to.

He was unsure if he wanted his mouth on your tits or to stick his aching, throbbing member in-between them as he watched you knead them. He needed to feel them in his hands again.

You thought about how the Red Hood teased you by taking off his belt so excruciatingly slow. You wanted to trail kisses down those rock hard abs, lick the length of that V-cut before you reached his cock.

At this point, you hadn’t touched your pussy at all, instead letting your underwear soak up its wetness. You stood up to remove your panties before slouching back down on the couch, feet resting against the table surface, legs spread.

Your sudden change in position gave Jason a full, unobstructed view of your pussy and it was beautiful. He didn’t know he could get any harder but he did.

You grabbed the dildo with your hands and played with it, feeling its weight. Jason imagined you doing the same with his cock, staring and curiously playing with it, giving it shy licks.

What felt like an eternity of teasing, you finally brought the silicone cock to your mouth, giving the head a rough suck. Red Hood would be looking down at you with a satisfied smirk as the head left your lips with a wet pop.

“You like this big dick, don’t you?” Jason moaned, slowly stroking himself at last.

You trailed the cock down your body, finally leading it to its intended destination.

“How’d you know I like ‘em big, Red?” You cooed. “And _lucky me_ , yours is the biggest cock I’ve ever had.”

Jason damn-near came with that sentence alone. It’s as if you knew exactly how to get him going. He felt a strong sense of pride knowing he was the biggest you ever had. He’d make sure he was the _best_ you ever had too.

“I always knew you’d like a challenge,” Jason breathily replied.

Jason was grateful for his enlarged screen once again as he watched you put in the tip first. He looked at the screen mesmerized, imagining his own swollen head slowly spreading your lips apart. You whimpered at the new sensation, enjoying the stretch.

You removed it after a slow exhale, rubbing the entirety of its length across your slit a few times. He could see a sleek layer of wetness on the cock, highlighted by the moonlight. You imagined Red Hood dragging his length across you once more, making you feel every surface of his cock, every delicious vein. He’d rub the head against your aching bud, watching as your body writhed against his movements.

Jason knew he wouldn’t be able to handle that teasing for any longer. He couldn’t, not with your breathy moans and broken, whispered “fucks.” He needed to feel more of your warmth. As if on cue, you put the entire length of the dildo inside you, causing you to let out a loud, contented sigh. _Finally._

“Red,” Jason watched, hypnotized to your mouth. He burned into his memory the way your lips moved to form that word, the slight upwards twitch of your mouth after, the barest trace of a smile.

As you said the word again, he realized he wanted more. More than a color, more than an alias. He wanted you to say his name as he truly is. He wanted to hear you say his name as nothing but a whisper, as something more than a moan. He wanted to hear you chant his name as a sacred prayer, begging to a god- _any god_ \- to let you come. With enough devotion, Jason would happily oblige.

He noted the collection of juices on the underside of the head. He’d make you taste yourself and lick it clean before he put it in again.

The thrusts were rougher now, getting sloppy. The wet friction turned Jason on as he stroked himself, keeping pace.

“ _More._ ”

Jason would bury himself to the hilt before taking himself out completely, only to pound you again and again. You needed every inch of Red Hood’s cock in you. You knew you wouldn’t be satisfied any other way.

You felt that build up deep within you reaching a breaking point.

Your thoughts were scattered now, thinking of the things Red did that turned you on. That scowl. The teasing. The way his body looking leaning on his motorcycle. His lips. His mouth. You wanted his kisses again all over your body. More importantly, you wanted to kiss him- deeply, passionately, roughly. You wanted a kiss to connect you both, a tender kiss to show your feelings and say the words you were too embarrassed to.

All your thoughts came to halt as you saw stars, letting out the most sinful cry as you orgasmed.

During your musings, Jason was also lost in his thoughts. Eyes closed, he listened to your whimpers and moans, all the sounds of friction between skin.

He imagined your lips again, even more swollen from extensive sucking and kissing, moving to say his name. You’d moan his name as you came. Jason would be the only one you could think of, the only word you could muster as orgasm took control of your body.

It was too much.

He let out a heavy moan as his build up reached its climax, his cum spilling over himself.

—

You both laid there for several minutes, basking in the glow of your nighttime escapades.

Being with Ivy was the last time your orgasmed. The last time you masturbated? You couldn’t even remember. Your therapist’s words echoed in your head: “Didn’t it feel good to finally release all of that sexual tension?” The orgasm was better than you expected, truly, but masturbation did nothing to suppress your feelings towards the Red Hood.

On the other hand, orgasm and masturbation had become a weekly, then near-nightly ritual for Jason as you invaded his thoughts more and more. He thought the mutual masturbation would curb his desire for you but it just made him want the real thing even more. It wasn’t the sex that he wanted either. He found himself yearning, as you lay stretched out on your couch, to hold you in his arms in post-coital bliss.

Rational thinking came back as the waves of orgasm came to a still. _He didn’t come._

Sighing, you sat up in the couch. You looked at your succulent, essentially the only friend you had in this place. _What a lonely life I live._

“It’s been fun,” you said, trying to find the right words. Why did you feel the need to say them aloud? “But this one-sided bullshit needs to end.”

_Right._ Saying things out loud made the words more real. Whatever it was that you and Red Hood were doing, it needed to end.

—

When you left the next day, Jason snuck into your apartment. Before you left, you had set the plant deeper into your kitchen away from the harsh sun, obscuring his usual view of you.

The words you said before you went to sleep stayed with him and kept him up for the rest of the night. Were you talking about him? The cameras? What do you mean it needed to end? _Why_ did it have to end?

As he walked throughout the space, he realized that all of your personal items were gone.

Jason realized that you were gone.


	12. New Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Knowing that he was willingly going to Tim’s day job to be bossed around by him made Jason question his sanity and his interest in you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: sexual themes, adult language

Jason was pissed that he had to be there, pissed he had to ask Bruce for permission to be on campus, pissed about talking to Tim.

A few nights ago, he saw Catwoman in your old apartment. She picked up each of the nano cameras as if they were diamonds to be appraised. How did she even know they were there?

“Looks like someone’s been spying on my dear little friend,” she purred. “Lucky me, I actually know something she doesn’t know for once.”

The only defining mark was a soft blinking yellow light. She wouldn’t have even swept your apartment for it if she didn’t catch Batman himself trying to place one on her the night before.

She held one camera close to her mouth. “She’ll be working on the 12th floor of Wayne Tower for at least a few weeks.” After her hint, the cameras were destroyed.

The 9th through 12th floors of Wayne Tower were dedicated to the company’s technology division. The CEO of the tech division? Timothy fucking Drake.

Knowing that he was willingly going to Tim’s day job to be bossed around by him made Jason question his sanity and his interest in you. He knew where you’d be during the day. Why did he have to be _with you_ during the day? He could easily follow you after work.

But he needed to figure out why you were there. He needed to know who you were trying to fuck over, needed to know who you trying to fuck- No, you couldn’t be targeting Tim, could you?

“We’ll have to wait here, Mr. Haywood,” the receptionist said, breaking his thoughts. “It looks like Mr. Drake is finally meeting our new PA. She just transferred from biomedics.”

He listened to you talk with Tim through his open office door, arms crossed.

“I’m very pleased that you chose to work with us. George sung praises of your work and said he’ll miss you dearly.”

“Thank you, sir.” You smiled sweetly at Tim. “Glad to know that I’ve been pleasing you already,” your smile widened, “Without even lifting a finger.”

It was the same voice you used with Jason. That sweet seductive voice that always had an undertone of something more.

If you had said that to Jason, he would have asked to see what you could do _while_ lifting a finger, a whole fist, what you could do with your hands, your mouth, your body.

But of course Tim didn’t acknowledge the subtext. He was too busy playing the perfect CEO so he could be Batman’s perfect little helper at night.

“Well, it was nice to finally meet you. Have a good day.”

As you made your exit, you brushed against Jason, skimming his arm and hand. With one grasp, he could keep you there, turn you around and force you took look at him.

A few steps and you stopped, turned back towards him and smiled. Was it genuine or were you just being in character?

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You smiled apologetically at him. “I didn’t mean to. Hope ya have a good day!” You waved at him then walked slightly faster to catch up with the other WE employee.

Jason looked back as you walked away from him.

“Jace Haywood?”

Jason scowled. Tim was never good at being creative.

—

“Mr. Drake.”

“ _Tim_ ,” your boss corrected.

“Mr. Drake, your next meeting is-“

“I know it seems inappropriate to be calling your boss so familiarly, but it would make me more comfortable if you did so. We’ve only got a handful of years between us anyway.”

“Okay, Mr-… Tim.” The name sounded foreign to your ears, the motions needed to articulate it felt strange.

“ _Tim_.” You said again, more confidently. “Your next meeting is canceled, so you’ll be free from two to three-thirty. Mr. Queen sends his apologies and a fruit basket.”

Jace glowered at you. His slick backed blonde haired was starting to come undone, some stray pieces hanging over his icy eyes. Jason knew Tim was only doing this to piss him off.

As Tim closed his office door, you turned to look at him. “What?”

“Fraternizing on the job already? Not a good look.”

You rolled your eyes, continuing with your work. Why was Jace pissed that you were doing your job?

—

You weren’t used to working Monday to Friday and you were exhausted. You leaned out the window of your other safe house, looking at the people below.

You watched a man try to unsuccessfully woo his girlfriend, bouquet of flowers thrown to ground by her. She walked ahead of him and he chased after her.

Across from you was an apartment building and a couple a few doors to the left had a penchant for fucking with the blinds open. They didn’t know that they were cheating on each other but you did.

“Watching is better than performing,” you said to the night before going back in.

—

“Hey Jay,” you asked him timidly. “Tim would like to see you in his office.”

“My name’s already short, you had to shorten it even more?”

_Jace is a stupid fucking name._

The new intern annoyed the shit out of you, more so than that TA from months ago. He was temperamental, especially when it came to you and your boss. To keep your cover and your job though, you held your tongue. Playing the shy, sweet office worker was especially difficult with Jace around.

“I have a tendency to drag my S’s at times,” you replied sheepishly, not quite looking Jason. “Makes me feel like I’m trying to speak Parseltongue.”

“So I’m sorry, _Jay_ ,” you apologized with fake saccharine. “Forgive me?” You looked at him, slightly pouting your lips.

Jason said nothing as he left to meet with Tim, repeating the sound of your voice saying his name.

—

Long hours in the office called for late night exchanges. And tonight you were out late again. You wondered how many hours of sleep you could get before having to come into the office.

Tonight was easy money. You had some classified information on the main card of next month’s fight and some dumb bookie wanted to buy that information.

You tucked your gloved hands into your coat as you headed towards the subway. You should really invest in a bike, a car or _something_ other than your legs when you worked. Luck was the only reason someone didn’t follow you home yet. You wish you could have taken the car you left outside of your newly abandoned apartment but Selina said she needed it back for some heist she was pulling off in Metropolis in a few days.

The sound of gunshots brought you out of your musings. You looked around you, trying to figure out where they were coming from- towards you. You looked for somewhere you could hide, feeling your heart accelerate and hoping to God they didn’t see you. An empty hall to your right would provide enough coverage and hopefully whoever was shooting would run by.

You ducked behind a trash can, making yourself as small as possible. You might work in Gotham’s underground but you weren’t fully immersed in its violence and darkness. You were only good at running away and keeping yourself hidden.

Heavy footsteps and grunts filled the empty subway eventually getting louder. A metal clank, then a hiss as smoke filled the area. Finally one last shot, a yell, and a thud as a body hit the floor. You felt sick. You didn’t want to look in that direction at all.

You got up from your hiding spot, ready to bolt. You had two smoke bombs and a tazer in your pocket if you were met with confrontation.

As you stood up, you saw him there, broken mask, clutching at his ribs. He didn’t look gravely injured but he wasn’t in his best shape either. You wanted to call out to him to make sure he’d be okay.

You opened your mouth. You saw another figure run up to him, slender and feminine.

“Red Hood!” she yelled, removing his hand to examine his torso, then a hand reached up to look at his face.

The act itself wasn’t sexual. Instead it looked intimate and tender. There had to be certain level of trust and intimacy to allow such close contact.

You felt yourself burn from the toes up. As jealousy set your body aflame, you realized that you wanted that with him. You wanted to be the one turning him over gently, assessing his body for wounds. You wanted him to come to you when he was hurt. You wanted lots of things and always got them, but you knew that you never needed anything.

“Better watch where you put those hands, _sweetheart_ ,” he hissed as she pressed on his body again. “I know I’m more built than Nightwing but I’m more than a beefcake, ya know?”

You were upsetting yourself more by watching them. You couldn’t hear what they saying and your mind was already coming up with hours of dialogue.

You snuck away from your hiding spot while they were distracted.

—

“I’m glad the leftovers from the meeting aren’t being wasted,” you said, eyeing the precariously full plate of Tim Drake’s intern.

It took a few days but Jace was finally acting civilly towards you. He was polishing off the entire tray of eggs after this morning’s meeting with Queen Industries.

“You’re lucky,” he said, forking up another mouthful. “This is premium content on my Waynetube channel. You get to see it here- live and for free.”

“I’ll keep that in mind whenever feelings of abject horror arise during lunch.”

“Hey, it takes a lot of food to maintain this physique. It’s difficult being the office eye candy,” he fake whined. “Especially when the one with the biggest sweet tooth sits next to me.”

You turned away and continued with your work.

—

A resounding chorus of “Aww”s and “Good boy!”s tore you from the work you haven’t done. You didn’t want to be there after watching the Red Hood last night. You peeked down the main hallway of the tech division.

Making their way from the front desk toward Tim Drake’s office was Bruce Wayne’s other heirs: Dick Grayson and Damian Wayne. Dick smiled and greeted the other employees while Damian handled a very excited German Shepherd.

The pair were dressed casually, matching even. The eldest son wore a faded blue quarter-sleeve shirt with a striped front pocket, jeans and yellow Vans whereas the youngest wore a striped shirt, oversized yellow hoodie, jeans and black Vans. Cute siblings, you thought.

Some were excited to see the dog. Some were excited to kiss up to the heirs. Some were excited for the view after Dick Grayson passed.

You? You wondered why that dog was here.

A year ago Bruce Wayne publicly announced that he helped fund Batman’s activities. You wouldn’t put it past them to be working together more closely to solve Gotham City’s crime problem.

Was there a bomb? You didn’t hear of any terrorist activities in your last dive into Gotham’s underworld but things changed quickly in the city. Or was this some random drug test? The shepherd could easily sniff out drugs on any employee’s person. Was the dog being used to track something or someone?

You also knew that Dick Grayson did work as a detective in Bludhaven. The BPD has a K9 unit. It wouldn’t be a far reach to assume that he had experience as a handler.

It seemed the dog gravitated towards random people and you couldn’t think of the common denominators between them.

Soon enough, the dog sat in front of you, wagging his tail. Damian scratched his head.

“This is Ace. He has a weakness for pretty girls.”

“Really?” You knew his type: the charmer. Unfortunately for Dick, you had nothing to offer. You hated his type. “It’s too bad Marcia called in sick today then. He would have loved her.”

Dick laughed. “Dick Grayson,” he introduced himself. “You already met Ace. This is my baby brother, Damian.” He motioned towards the child.

“I’m guessing you’re Timmy’s new assistant. He failed to mention how beautiful you are.” He continued, giving you a dazzling white smile.

“Oh really? Feeling a bit weak, Mr. Grayson?” You kept your tone professional. “I didn’t know you were a dog too.”

“And how funny you are either.”

You felt Jace’s eyes on you without having to turn around. You could feel his annoyance with each step towards you.

Damian finally spoke. “Perhaps Drake should have trained you more if you failed to recognize the Wayne heirs. Another mark towards his incompetence.”

You weren’t expecting a cute and cuddly kid but Damian Wayne really caught you off guard. You kept your expression neutral. “My apologies, _Mr. Wayne_.”

Jace finally reached you and you weren’t sure if his presence made the situation more or less awkward. He said nothing as he stood beside you.

Ace jumped up to be pet by him and he obliged, scratching behind his ears. It was strange how this seemingly obedient dog lost all manners when seeing the intern. Almost as if they’ve known each other for a while.

“Jace!” Dick greeted him. “Ready to take us to Tim’s office?”

You stepped aside so the young men would have more room to reach your boss, noting their body language and interactions with each other.


	13. Suppose That's Your Gun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and the Red Hood have a heated encounter on the rooftop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: smut, adult language, vague mentions of trauma

“Be honest with me, Jay,” you said, looking at the tall man with earnest eyes before scanning the around you two. “Is our boss bullying you?”

Jason stared at you blankly, trying to grasp what you were saying.

“He calls you into his office all the time. I know you’re his intern but still. He utilizes you more than me. And his brothers constantly bother you as well for things that seem outside of your job description,” you continued. “I know it can be scary to say no or set limits, but-“

Jason had to stop you there. He put two fingers to your lips to hush you. You never noticed his hands before, how long his fingers are and how thick- If you opened your mouth just a little bit, you-

A hearty chuckle distracted you. His fingers left your mouth and moved as both hands clutched at his sides. He was at the point of laughter where it bordered pain. If Jason continued laughing this hard, he knew he’d break the stitches at his side.

He wheeled his chair even closer to yours before ducking his head near yours. He mimicked your previous action and looked around. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. Now go enjoy your break.”

—

You found yourself surrounded by the office gossipers on your 15. You tried to make yourself small and unnoticeable to them but they were observant and overly friendly.

“Did you see how Nightwing, Red Hood and Red Robin all teamed up last night?” One gushed.

“So dreamy,” another cooed.

“If Nightwing rescued me from a bank robbery, I would literally die of happiness.”

Another called out to you. How were they all able to take their break at once? Productivity must be at a halt right now, you thought.

“Who’s your favorite vigilante?”

“Red Hood,” you stated unabashed, giving no further explanation, keeping your attention on your phone. You continued to flick through your fake social media.

Dick grinned, nudging Jason in Tim’s office. “Your girl isn’t shy at all, is she?”

Jason remained expressionless but turned his head slightly towards the smart tech Wayne Enterprises was prototyping.

“I’m sure Bruce _can’t wait_ to roll this product out. He’ll be able to spy on every Gothamite from the comfort of the cave,” he said, ignoring Dick.

Tim looked up from his work at his two brothers. “It’s not our fault that people think their devices stop listening if they’re not talking. They should fully research and analyze what devices they allow into their home.”

Jason rolled his eyes. _Always kissing Bruce’s ass. Fucking nerd._

“Ew,” a feminine voice reacted to your answer. You watched as her nose wrinkled in disgust.

“He’s such a brute with those guns. He shot the Mayor _again_ after he just recovered! I bet he wears that helmet to hide his ugly mug.” There were a few faint “yeahs!” in agreement.

“Ya gotta admit that Nightwing does have the best body,” someone else chimed in.

“And that smile!”

“Smile? You mean that ass!”

You sighed. “As a society, we constantly talk about the negative impacts of the sexual objectification of women. What about sexually objectifying our heroes? Do you even _know_ what each vigilante has been doing for Gotham?”

They were silent, the dumb, fun conversation becoming too heavy for this break.

“Yeah, they all have hot bodies but seeing them as nothing more than eye candy diminishes the actual work they do to keep us safe and make this city better.”

Dick gave a soft hum in agreement. It was always uncomfortable when people talked about his body.

“Ya know what I got from listenin’ in on this conversation?” Jason grinned at the two. “There’s a great debate on who’s the hottest.”

“And sorry Timbo, but you weren’t even a contender.”

Tim sighed and rubbed his temples, eyes tired from overseeing the latest proposals and contracts that Lucius sent him.

“There were at least five voices that agreed that you’re ugly beneath your hood.”

Jason’s grin fell.

—

“Why the cold shoulder, babe?” the Red Hood asked, spinning you around so that you’d have to look at him. He leaned down, a hand running up and down your arm, “Do I have to warm you up again?”

You didn’t back down as his face moved closer to yours. The night was young and you hadn’t expected confrontation so early on. The two of you have been dancing around each other since the Iceberg Lounge, passing by but never quite confronting each other fully. You were sure he didn’t see you by the train station a few nights ago.

He finally had you cornered against the wall of an abandoned building

“Depends. Are you gonna leave me hot and bothered again?” You asked, your voice soft. The lack of confrontation gave you more time to plan. “You owe me for what you did in the lounge and I always collect my debts.”

“You sound like the bad guys I beat up every night.”

“Oh yeah? Gonna lock me up too, Red?”

Your hand was more daring than his, attempting to memorize the muscles underneath his suit. It trailed up and down his chest, careful to avoid the injury he sustained nights before. It stopped at his belt, tracing the buckle.

Your fingers fiddled with the buckle’s lock, your eyes not leaving the emotionless hood. Enough fumbling and your fingers finally unlocked it. Next came the button.

Jason watched you silently, waiting to see where your hands would end up. Your fingers kept on running up and down the zipper’s teeth, lightly touching the head but never with enough force to bring it down. He was used to your flirtations but your touches were rare and far in-between.

Your hands found themselves snaking away from Red Hood’s front and headed behind. With a hand on each cheek, you closed the gap between each other’s hips, bringing him closer to you. Once contact was made, you grinded your hips against his. You wish you could have felt his desire through the tactical pants. He used one hand against the wall for balance.

Enough sensual friction. You finally spoke again, so soft Jason could have missed it. A name. Your real name? Jason knew it wasn’t any of your frequently used aliases. You said it again, this time more clearly. He repeated it after you.

“It’s about time we were more open and honest with each other, right?”

—

Bruce zoomed in on a security camera still of Jason. He had one hand on your hip, looking down at you as you looked up to him. What appeared to be a near lovers’ embrace but something felt off. Other screens had news articles about the Red Hood, one had an update on the mayor’s condition. Another had your file pulled up, your aliases and disguises categorized by time.

Bruce clicked and typed away on his supercomputer, pulling up a feed to Jason’s safe house.

“You’re truly living every helicopter parents’ dream,” came a facetious voice from behind.

Bruce sighed. “He’s been shutting me out. Since he came back, he’s never wanted to listen. Lately it’s been even worse.” 

“Perhaps Master Jason is confused because you told him- and the other boys- at such a tender, formative age, that anyone who shows interest in him is most likely honeypotting him.” Alfred suggested wryly.

“I don’t believe that was the information I provided you when I taught _you_ of the birds and the bees, Master Bruce.”

—

“I love this song!” Dick exclaimed, as he hovered over your shoulder and looked at your phone screen.

“Good afternoon, _Mr. Grayson_.”

“Alfred made some scones! Maybe we could split a few on your break?”

“As lovely as that sounds, I have to get through this stack of papers by four.”

“I have some pull around here. I’ll give Timbo a lil talkin’ to,” he winked.

Once Dick retreated to your boss’s office and the door was closed, you turned to Jace. “It’s just weird that our boss’s brother keeps on trying to feed me his scraps, you know?”

Jason didn’t look up from the file he was reading. Tim passed him intel regarding a suspicious shipment that was more than likely harboring trafficked humans.

“Maybe he likes you.”

You snorted. “That’s completely inappropriate. Dick doesn’t work for WE, but he’s still the owner’s son. Engaging- _no, even entertaining_ \- such a relationship would be career suicide.”

Jason didn’t respond to you. It looked like he had another long night ahead of him. At least Dick was here to assist.

—

This wasn’t the type of after-work activity you had in mind but you felt like it was kind of helping. You hated having to bring things up on your own terms but you hated her prying even more. The silence? Uncomfortable and a waste of time.

“I touched myself while thinking of that guy a few nights ago.”

“Oh excellent,” your therapist said, clasping her hands together. “Reconnecting with your body is a step in the right direction. How did it feel?”

“Pervert.” She didn’t flinch. She was used to your accusations and had been called worse things by other patients.

“It felt…” You thought about how it felt that night. “Safe.” Your therapist wrote some notes down on her paper.

“What about that session felt safe?” It was annoying how she made you analyze every encounter and every action, as if everything in your life had some deep-rooted meaning.

“It felt safe because…” Why did you even use that word? “I was in control.”

She nodded in understanding. “Control is important to individuals who’ve experienced trauma. It’s the human reaction to being in situation where you’ve felt powerless.” Here she went again with the same shit she always said. Yeah, you know.

“Allowing yourself to have control shows that you made a choice and trusted yourself to act on it,” she continued.

“Yeah, I told myself I wanna get fucked,” you were aware of the vulgar language and hated that you described it as such. “But he wasn’t there to fix my problem.”

“Recognizing your needs,” you snorted at that, “is vital to healing. It seems like this is the first time in a while where you’ve sought out something sexual for yourself and your own pleasure in a positive way.”

She was right. You had sex whenever you were upset or lonely or plagued with upsetting memories. Sometimes you couldn’t even remember how you got yourself in those encounters. Thank God you were a stickler for safe sex and birth control.

Her pencil scratching felt like your neurons firing as you tried to remember the word she just used to describe it. Aha- _dissociation_. Most of the time, sex felt outside of you. That’s why you preferred watching others. It’s always easier to watch without having to do the actual work.

—

Jason walked back from the copy room, annoyed with all of the attention the sales girls kept on giving him. So far today is shit. He was already annoyed that Tim was making him do excessive bitch work today. He was tired from last night. He didn’t need to be berated about his relationship status by them on top of it.

As he turned the corner, he saw you leaning over the desk of one of the developers. He tried to recall his name but it was on the tip of his tongue. _Whatever._ You laughed and touched his shoulder while the man smiled. He found himself walking faster so he could hear your conversation.

You looked at the man sweetly. “I finally found you, you disgusting pig,” you said softly so unwanted ears wouldn’t hear. You had been waiting for his other deskmates to leave so you could confront him alone. He smiled at you, clearly confused.

“This,” you slid a few pictures so he could see, “is for all the women you’ve been harassing online and in real life.” He wasn’t smiling anymore. “And this,” another set of pictures, “is for your wife and kids and your so-called family man reputation.”

Jason was finally within earshot of you two. He called out your fake name. You turned your attention on the blonde intern, smiling and straightening the photos, successfully sliding it beneath the paperwork you had to submit to Tim.

“Hey Jay, let’s stop by the food court. Tim looked tired this morning. I’d like to get him his favorite coffee before our meeting.”

Jason was at your side now, sizing up the tech developer. The man looked average and unthreatening. You grabbed him by the elbow to steer him towards Tim’s favorite coffee place.

As you walked away, you turned back to the other man. “I’ll be seeing you later!”

“What was that about?”

“It’s work-related.”

—

A robotic voice called out your name as you kneeled against the edge on your building’s rooftop. You jumped and moved the binoculars from your view to look for the voice behind you. And he was right behind you. You flinched again. How could such a large man be so quiet?

“What are you looking at?”

You were about to take some incriminating photos of some mob bosses to get them off the streets for a bit but now you lost your shot thanks to Red Hood’s arrival. You’d have to plan for another night of observation.

You looked him up and down. “Nothing much.”

He huffed. Well, it’s not like you looked much better. You nearly lost track of time and ran out of your apartment, equipment stuffed in your bag, to get this shot. You had already taken off your makeup and wig, comfortable in an oversized shirt and boy shorts. It should have taken no more than 15 minutes if you weren’t interrupted.

“You know, I was working so hard on getting some photographic evidence of a crime happening but now,” you put the binoculars back to the building diagonal from yours, “I missed it.”

“Are you trying to say I owe you now?” he drawled. “Just put it on my tab.”

The Red Hood was lounging against the rooftop’s edge now, legs spread and comfortable. You sighed and set the object down again.

“What are you gonna do to make it worth my time?”

He used his index and middle fingers to give you the signal to come closer. “Come here and find out.”

You crawled over to him, waiting expectantly. His leather jacket was cast aside as were his gloves. His guns were off to the side but easily accessible. You watched him as he slowly undid the buckle to his belt holster, then the button of his pants. He slid the zipper down slowly.

“Turn around and lean back into my lap.” You didn’t want to take your eyes away from the sight before you but you followed his orders anyway.

Once reclined, you felt his arms wrap around you as his sturdy chest met your back. “We’re safe here. Relax,” he assured you. You sunk in further, smelling that familiar sweet tobacco smell.

He held you there for a moment in silence, feeling each other’s heartbeats: his slow and steady, yours erratic in anticipation.

He said your name gently, “I’m trusting you. Don’t turn around.”

You tried to think of some quick-witted reply but then you heard the familiar sound of something unlocking and the sound of something heavy being put down. That’s why he didn’t want you to turn around.

“Someone forget to wear the mask before patrol?” You teased. No response. You had to fight the urge to turn around and look at him.

Jason honestly did feel guilty for not meeting you again after that night, especially when you left your original apartment the day after. He saw you sneaking off by the train station and after he noticed you were avoiding him. He needed to make it up to you.

His scent grew stronger as you felt his lips against your ear. “I was in a hurry to come for you.” You made a noise in your throat at the mental image his words created: Red Hood rubbing one out before suiting up.

“Oh you’re naughty, baby. Not that kind of come. Though that is on the agenda for tonight.”

One hand snaked its way underneath your shirt, gently grabbing a breast while the other rubbed up and down your thigh.

“Not so mouthy now, are you?” He said, planting kisses behind your ear and down your neck. Feeling his lips against your skin felt good. They were soft and warm, a relief from the night air.

“There’s something else we could do if you really want me to shut up,” you suggested. You wanted to turn to the Red Hood and feel all of him, taste all of him. You wanted to take him entirely down your throat and gag.

Jason hummed against your neck. “That sounds appealing, but” another kiss half-way up and much rougher than before, “I have other things in mind.”

Another rough suck and bite. He wanted to leave a mark for Tim to see tomorrow. He imagined you flustered at work tomorrow, attempting to hide his love bites. Would you try to cover it with makeup or with strategic outfit? What excuse would you use? He couldn’t wait to naively tease you about it. His dick was swelling at the thought of it.

The Red Hood was being rough with his kisses and you knew your skin would be bruised by the morning. How would you style your wig? If anyone asked you could say that- you winced as you felt teeth this time. You took a sharp inhale from the pain.

“Should I be gentler?” You nodded your head.

“I’m sorry.” This time it was a soft kiss against your crown.

You focused again on your body and what was happening to it. One hand was on your breast, the other hanging in your lap, both idle. Being in control was when you felt best.

He was waiting for your okay to continue. You took both hands in yours and lead them to your breasts. Controlling his actions, Red Hood squeezed your tits. Jason relished their warmth and softness, glad that he removed his gloves for this. You continued this for several moments, occasionally having him gently pinch your nipples. Jason loved the content sighs and moans that came from your mouth as you relaxed further into him.

“Feels good?” He checked in with you.

Another breathy moan. “Just feel how wet you make me, Red.”

Your intertwined hands snaked down to your hot center. Jason groaned, erection throbbing. You hadn’t even put his fingers inside of you and yet your panties were entirely soaked.

“Keep your eyes closed.”

He turned your head sideways towards him so he could kiss you deeply. Red Hood’s kiss was desperate and hungry, a stark contrast to the teasing and calculated territorial marks he was leaving on your skin. His kiss was months of built-up tension and flirtations, months of hard ons and frustration.

Your kiss was exactly how Jason imagined: yielding at first, letting his tongue explore this part of you, then becoming more and more commanding. You caught his lips between your teeth and fought him for control.

But you’re only human and the lack of oxygen was becoming too much. The kiss was broken as you both gasped for air. You turned forward again so you could open your eyes.

“Bet you tied a bunch of cherries back in the day, huh?” You asked, breath still raggedy from the kiss.

“Guns aren’t the only things I have up my sleeve.” He replied smugly.

You wanted to turn to him to see if he also had a smile on his face. But now wasn’t the time to be happy but rather to feel other emotions that began with ‘h’ instead.

“And I don’t suppose that’s your gun I’m feeling pressed up against me?”

He repositioned your body so that you laid more off-set against him. It made it more difficult not to look at his handsome face. He shifted his hips and used his hands to pull something out.

It was Jason’s turn to play puppeteer as he guided your hand to his dick. Your hand was small in comparison to his, the skin soft and unmarred unlike his. He guided it to his swollen member, a pleased smile forming at the edges of your mouth.

The Red Hood showed you exactly how he liked to be touched. You liked the way his larger hand engulfed yours as you both went up his entire length a few times. You noted the few engorged veins of his member and its slight upward curve. You wondered what spots he could hit with its curvature.

His breathing was slow and shallow as your gripped him up and down. You imagined him with his eyes closed, enjoying every stroke. But Jason’s eyes weren’t closed. Instead he was focused on using your hand to fuck himself. He moved it to palm his head for a moment, rubbing his precum all over.

“And here I thought you were trying to overcompensate,” you teased. You thought of all the newsreels that showed the Red Hood caught in a gun fight. You couldn’t lie: the hyperviolence he was involved in was pretty hot.

“How was I supposed to know that Lil Red was packing a different kind of heat?”

“How big?” Jason asked through grit teeth as you picked up speed. How many times had he touched himself to you? How many times did he think of you teasing him as you gave him a handjob while patrolling? When you were undercover at some seedy bar?

You smirked to yourself. Oh, he wanted validation now, did he? “I don’t indulge in size games.”

He furrowed his brow in frustration. Intrusive thoughts of you fucking mob bosses and having casual sex came into his mind, both jealous and turned on by the thought of you indulging in carnal pleasure.

You took his silence to move your underwear aside and slip his middle and ring fingers in. Jason loved the feeling of your sleek walls against him. He could only imagine how it’d feel to be inside you, so tight and warm as you shuddered against him. He thought of your facial expressions as he slowly put it in, the way your breathing would change and the soft moans you’d make. Did he dare to ask?

As long and thick as the Red Hood’s fingers were, they were no cock. You wanted to be stretched out and filled. You wanted his entire length inside of you, slamming in and out repeatedly. You wanted him to make you taste yourself on him.

“If you don’t make me cum within the next ten minutes, Red,” you managed to say between moans and loud enough to be heard over the wet sounds of fingering, “You owe me double.”

As enticing as being in sex debt was, Jason liked your challenge even more.

“Get on all fours.” You hastily took off your shirt and pulled down your underwear to your knees.

Jason watched as you rubbed your clit, slipping a few fingers in. Your pussy looked better up close. No supercomputer could capture the way your wetness looked in person. Cock out only, he kneeled before your entrance. You felt yourself blush as he gave an appreciative whistle, spreading your folds. You drew your fingers back so he could have a better view.

“No, keep ‘em in there.” You stopped your action. “I want you to spread your fingers so I can see your tight little hole before I ruin it.” You complied. Jason knew it would be a tight fit. The girth of his cock was much more than the two fingers he had given you before. He contemplated whether he should ease you into the transition.

“Red,” you said testily, tired of waiting.

He got into position behind you, rubbing his length down your slit. You shuddered in response. You loved that move.

“Red,” you moaned his name this time. Jason thought back to your solo session. He rubbed the head of his cock against your clit, eliciting several higher pitched noises. Jason did it again. You made something more pornographic this time. He could do this all night until you were crying on the ground, begging. But he didn’t have all night. He had only had ten minutes.

Without further ado, he inserted his cock into your waiting folds at a slow pace, savoring every inch of newfound warmth. You wanted to cry as the Red Hood stretched out your pussy. You felt complete and your body adapted seamlessly. He pulled out and you felt empty. He did it three more times. Jason couldn’t help it. The way your pussy lips gripped his cock was mesmerizing. He grabbed one cheek for a better view as he continued to slowly thrust in and out of you.

You couldn’t stand his teasing as you felt your orgasm creeping its way to the edge. Your chest heaved, starved for air as your breathing became more erratic. The vigilante seemed to finally notice the state you were in. He gave your ass one last firm slap before picking up the pace. He was rougher than Ivy whenever she spanked you. 

Finally getting to the roughness you desired, you threw your hips back to increase the building friction between you. Jason squeezed your tits as he fucked you mercilessly. Heavy breathing and lustful moans echoed around the rooftop space. You were so close to the edge. Jason lunged one leg forward to fuck you deeper. You squeezed your legs together in response.

Jason groaned. What the hell did you just do? Your walls felt deliciously tighter than before. He leaned over you and kissed your neck, moaning your name as he pounded into you. The way he uttered every syllable of your name was so hot, his voice ragged and full of lust.

“Red?” You needed to hear more of his voice. “I’m so- ahh. I’m so,” it was hard to get the words out. He just started rubbing your clit too. “I’m so, so close.” You squeezed your eyes shut.

“I want your cum all over my cock, babe,” he managed to get out. “It’s so fucking- ugh, so fucking hot watching you use my cock to get off.” He rubbed your clit in rougher, sloppy circles.

You hardly heard his words as you fell off the edge and came. You felt tears form at your eyes, not quite ready to fall. It just felt too good. When was the last time you came like that? Have you _ever_ cum like that before? You didn’t even know if you were forming words or making sense. All you knew was that you had to vocalize your pleasure in some way.

Your orgasm squeezed Jason’s dick and he had to use every ounce of self-control not to cum inside you. Getting out of your sweet, wet death grip felt like such a betrayal to his body but you were in no state to agree to a creampie. He used your wetness to lubricate his cock and finish himself off. You laid before him, spread out and tired. Moments before you were a whimpering mess, occasionally calling out his primary color as your climax hit you in waves. One last stroke and he came.

Luckily he jacked off earlier in the day, so there wasn’t an excessive amount on him. He pulled out a thin cloth meant for Molotov cocktails out of his jacket to clean himself up.

He put his helmet back on before checking on you. At least you pulled your panties back up. Where were the rest of your clothes anyway?

“Worth your time, sweetheart?” You nodded, too tired to speak.


	14. Reflections

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: sexual themes, adult language, vague mentions of trauma

You organized the papers lazily as you tried to wake yourself up. You had to wander the streets for a while to ensure that the Red Hood didn’t follow you back to your apartment, meaning your beauty sleep was shortened.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer.”

You were irritated that you couldn’t hide last night’s hickeys without your neck looking cakey. Instead you had to opt for the ole hot curling iron to the neck excuse as you hurriedly curled your wig this morning also taking away from your precious rest.

“I tried to last week but then you said you’d report me to HR, remember?” Jace teased. You didn’t need to know that Jason had folders and folders of pictures, videos and sound clips of you.

The two of you made it to your briefing with Tim. You felt your boss glance at your neck without saying anything. He proceeded to tell you about his expectations for the meeting with Lex Corp.

Jason smirked, knowing that Tim saw your neck. The marks were a warning. _Don’t even fucking try, Replacement._

Your face felt like it was on fire the entire time. You tried to hurry out of the room once it was over but Jace’s strides were long. The intern was next to you in no time.

“Red’s a good color on you.”

—

“So you two finally had sex?” Your therapist squealed, showing more enthusiasm than you expected. “How was it?” She wanted details as if you were two close friends instead of two individuals in a clinical setting.

“Safe.” You felt protective of your time with the Red Hood, not wanting to share the details of your intimacy.

She hummed and flipped her notebook to a previous page, back to being a professional. “You’ve been using that word a lot recently. What about him makes you feel safe?”

“You said sex was empowering and it was a choice. He made it feel that way.”

You thought about how he bit your neck. Before you’d be too terrified to say anything but he noticed a change in your body language. He changed how he interacted with you instead of doing what he wanted, what felt good to him only. As you thought back to previous encounters, you realized he never made you feel scared or in danger. The way he spoke to you, the way he touched you, interacted with you… He made you feel wanted instead of used.

She smiled at your response, happy that you found a partner that could show you what a healthy sexual relationship was.

“Why do you like him?”

You tried to think in vague terms so you wouldn’t reveal his identity. “He’s kind of like a robot…”

She raised an eyebrow at this. “Robot fetishism is perfectly normal and-“

“Uhh, no. Maybe that was the wrong way to describe him.”

You thought of the first time you saw his helmet, your reflection in red staring back at you.

“He’s like a blank slate? He doesn’t know me as this pathetic, broken person. He doesn’t know what happened to me in the past.”

“And I don’t know, I like to pretend that maybe he saw something desirable in me from the beginning.”

“We often take on identities that aren’t truly ours after experiencing trauma. It seems as if you’ve internalized the belief that you’re broken and undesirable.”

“Because I am.”

“Are you?” She questioned. “You previously stated that you were incapable of intimacy, but I think your latest encounter proves that wrong.”

“No, it was just sex.”

“There’s something there,” she went on. “Something between you two that’s _more_ than ‘just sex.’ From what you told me, there appears to be _real_ feelings between you that neither of you are willing nor ready to address.”

You scoffed. “That’s wishful thinking. With the way we are, we can’t be together. We can only close the gap so much but there’s always going to be a space between us.”

You had enough of her probing for today. You exited out of the screen.

—

You heard Dick Grayson call out your working name from around the corner. Jason watched as you sighed softly, knowing that you’d be distracted from work again. He knew that Bruce sent Dick here to keep tabs on someone, whether it was you or Jason- maybe both?- he wasn’t sure.

“A little Timmybird told me you’ve never been to this diner before,” he sung, setting down two large to-go bags on your desk.

You looked at your watch. It was time for lunch anyway. Dick would probably whisk you away to the private breakroom reserved for Tim, which Dick used more than him.

“Jay, you coming?” He looked up from the casefile he was working on, surprised you invited him. Behind you, Dick smirked at your nickname for Jason, knowing you were unaware that that really was his nickname.

Dick was trying his hardest to irritate Jason, to make him break character and show how he really felt about you. But Jason was always a difficult one to crack.

After distributing the food amongst you three, he proceeding to ask you questions about yourself. Jason thought it was pointless. You would probably lie anyway.

“Are you in a relationship?”

You thought about last night. Then you thought of how intimately Bat Girl touched the Red Hood when he was injured, feeling yourself get jealous all over again. You weren’t even sure of what to label the two of you as.

“It’s complicated.”

Your tone of voice relayed to Dick and Jason that you didn’t want to elaborate more than that. He gave Jason a questioning glance to which he shrugged his shoulders.

You bit into your sandwich after your reply, chewing a few times before getting ready to wipe your mouth.

Dick leaned over to wipe your mouth for you. You saw his action and immediately scooted away from him, eyes wide, making a surprised noise. The chair screeched with your movement. He sat back down and smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry, it’s a bad habit from taking care of my younger brothers. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

With a napkin to your mouth, you reassured him it was alright and to not feel bad.

He turned his attention to the blonde intern next to you. “Now Jay, you’ve had this bit of sauce at the corner of your lip and it’s been bothering me for _five whole minutes_.”

“Dude, don’t.”

—

“How noble of you,” the Red Hood clapped, striding towards you from some unknown location

The tech developer you were talking to previously had made his way out of the office after your final threats. You promised him that you wouldn’t turn him in if he destroyed the software he used to spy on his victims along with the indecent photos and videos he was blackmailing them with.

“So how much do the victims owe you? Seems like a two thousand dollar job?” You gave him an annoyed look. You weren’t expecting to run into him at your day job. “More or less? We never really talked about our pay with the work we do, have we?”

You scowled at him. “It was _free_.”

His body language made him seem surprised. “Why?”

“Because it’s fucked up.”

“You think you’re a vigilante or something, huh?”

“I’m not. But some things, you just need to do.”

You happened to be on the subway when you overheard two voices crying in the bathroom. They said some man was blackmailing them, that they had to do disgusting sexual acts with him. They reported him to the police but their report was never followed up.

Now that you thought about it, one of your sources at Wayne Enterprises reported something similar a few months back. Was Wayne Enterprises trying to cover it up? So much for Bruce Wayne being an ally to women.

You walked back to your office space to grab your things and leave. You turned back to him, “Fuck off now. My boss is still here.” You glanced at the frosted glass windows further down from you, unsure of how soundproof Tim’s space was.

He approached you until your ass hit the desk. He picked you up so that you were sitting on top of it. “I know.”

“Then what the fuck?!”You whispered angrily. He used one thick thigh to spread your legs apart. You felt a flash of heat travel to your center.

He laughed. “Relax. I just wanted to see what you would do.”

“Again: what the fuck?!”

“It just turns me on seeing you be a good girl for once.” He admitted.

You felt that heat again, knowing where he was going with this. 

“We both know you don’t like good girls, Red. You like bad girls who use your fingers to cum. You like bad girls who bounce on your cock.”

He seemed satisfied with your answer. “Maybe I don’t like good girls or bad girls. Maybe I just like this one girl who can be both.”

You flushed. He got off you and started to walk away. “Alright, I guess I’ll give into your demand to fuck off.”

While straightening out your skirt, you took one final glance at your boss’s office. There didn’t seem to be any noise or movement indicating that he was aware of what was going on outside.

As you followed behind him, the Red Hood walked backwards to talk to you. “Fuck ya later, babe!” He called out before blowing you a kiss and turning the corner.

—

“So,” Dick grinned as Jason and Tim met up with him on the rooftop of a long abandoned apartment building later that evening. “You two _finally_ did it. Proud of ya, bud!” He punched Jason’s arm.

“Congrats on losing your virginity,” Tim said dryly.

“Ha. Maybe you’ll be lucky enough to lose yours soon too, nerd.”

“Boys, boys,” Dick tried to mediate between the two. “So what’s next from here, Hood?”

“We’re just doing recon tonight, Nightwing, or is all this girl talk short circuiting your birdbrain?”

Jason was always guarded with his more private feelings, even when he first came to the Manor. It became more pronounced when he came back.

“You know what I mean.”

Dick shot Jason a look. Jason sighed. Dick was always able to wrestle out the name of his crushes. He thought of a mortified moment when he forced Jason to admit his crush on his classmate, Rena. Dick played a recording that Alfred got of Jason saying her name in his sleep to get him to admit it.

“That’s between me and her.”

“Oh, is that so?” Tim laughed. “Stop trying to involve me in your weird little sex games then.”

“What?!”

“Maybe you could learn a thing or two from me. Save that audio for a lonely night, you know? I’m surprised you only bugged the office with recorders and not full on cameras actually. But what you could’ve seen might have been too much for you.”

Dick was upset. He visited the office often so he wouldn’t miss out on any key interactions between you and Jason. Bruce had mentioned being concerned about Jason’s well being one night at dinner. When prodded for more information, Bruce provided none and left it at that. A few weeks later, he provided Dick with a dossier on you, including CCTV stills of your interactions with Jason. Dick knew then what exactly this was- Jason had found his Catwoman. He couldn’t miss out on that.

“I’ve never even looked at her that way!”

“I just need you to know your place. You have a history of overstepping your boundaries.”

—

“I need to see you in my office.” Tim commanded through the line.

You looked at your boss with unease, unsure if this was the right course of action. It’s not that you felt uncomfortable with his request. It was just rather suspicious. Not too long, you heard the sound of a knob being turned.

“Happy birthday, Jay!” You and your boss called out. You both blew party horns as he approached. He looked visibly confused. His birthday was several months away.

“But it’s-” He took a good look at you now. _That_ wasn’t office appropriate.

Tim looked at his watch and sighed loudly. “Ugh! I forgot I had to meet with Lucius and some of the other board members to sign a new deal.”

You gave him a strange look. “But that’s not till-”

He got up from his desk quickly, getting dangerously close to you. “I can have a piece later, right?” His voice was low and seductive. He glanced at Jason to make sure he was watching. The blonde stood transfixed on the couple.

You tried not to make a face at your boss’s sudden bold behavior. You were used to the more reserved workaholic. “Of course, Tim. It’ll be waiting for you on your desk,” you gave him a knowing smile. “ _Bring your appetite_.”

Jason tried not to fume at the exchange before him. Even if it wasn’t actually his birthday, what the fuck kind of greeting was this? Were you really targeting Tim or was the younger man taking advantage of Jason? Whatever it was, he needed to be more aware of your interactions together. There was clearly something going on and he needed to know about it.

His eyes narrowed as Tim approached him. “I’ll be taking my leave now, Jay. I wouldn’t want to overstep any boundaries.” He whispered to the taller man mockingly before leaving.

“Quit looking at my cellulite,” you said while attempting to adjust your outfit to no avail.

You handed him a slice of cake- his favorite flavor. After the embers of envy and anger faded, he took you in completely. Jason couldn’t help himself. He was sure this was a trap but damn did you look good in that outfit.

“I have stretch marks and scars all over too. It’s normal.”

You gave him a sly smile, legs crossed as you sat atop of Tim’s desk. Jason tried to remove the intrusive image of you bent over the desk out of his head. There was another cake that he’d rather be eating.

“I was just teasing you, Jay.” He wasn’t listening to you. He was distracted by your thighs and what lay in-between them. He thought of you teasing him in other ways. Did you bring the rope with you?

“Do you think I really care about something so superficial?” You twirled a strand of hair around your fingers. “Blonde, brunette, redhood- uh, head-, tatts, freckles… Who cares about appearances if you’ll love them all the same?”

Was that why it was easier to find you now than before? Jason could hear it in the voice, the way you walked. Your alternate looks didn’t matter. You couldn’t hide from him anymore. He knew you.

‘”You’re right. It doesn’t matter.”

“What does matter,” he looked you up and down once more, “is that what you’re wearing clearly violates the dress code. You might be sent home for the day.”

You laughed. Of course it did. Only in a porno would a fucking leotard be considered appropriate for the corporate world.

“A little bird told me you like Wonder Woman.” _Damn you, Timothy Drake._ “Same little bird suggested I dress up as a gift for you.”

“And you listened?” He asked incredulously.

“It was either that or jump out of a giant birthday cake, scantily clad.”

You shrugged. “I like dressing up. Though I guess you wouldn’t really know that, would you, _Jace_?” You were definitely teasing him. He couldn’t tell if you were trying to goad him into revealing his true identity or if you were trying to reveal yours. Either way, he chose not to acknowledge it.

“Besides, how could I not listen to Dick?” You smiled wickedly. It looked like he would explode at any moment. “He has great ideas.”


	15. GFYS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: smut, gun kink, adult language, vague mentions of trauma

There was a commotion in the section of the 12th floor where the developers worked. Hot coffee burnt your tongue as you moved to get a better look. Jace was already at the front of the crowd that gathered at the scene.

“You can’t arrest me! I was framed! That fucking bitch framed me!” The cops were silent as they restrained the frantic man.

Jason watched you smile and sip your coffee as the man did his walk of shame, police in front and behind him.

After work, he found you as the Red Hood. You finally stopped running away from him now or maybe it was because he stopped interrupting your transactions. Either way, Jason was pleased that you were comfortable enough around him to stay.

“I thought you promised you wouldn’t turn him in.” He stated, arms crossed as he leaned against the brick wall behind him.

You counted the money you received earlier, the Red Hood looking away. You laughed at his reaction before hiding the cash in a zippered pocket on your person.

“I didn’t know you held such weight in promises, Red.” He looked at you straight on now that the money was away.

“We both know that slaps on the wrists don’t mean shit, especially in Gotham.”

“Not as flashy as you could have made it, but it’s another step towards vigilantism at least.”

You knew he had a shit eating grin beneath the helmet. “Proud of you, baby.”

You rolled your eyes. “Go fuck yourself, Red.”

—

You dropped the packet of photos and other evidence down the laundry shoot before making your way to the party. You laughed at the concept: heroes and villains. But with the various gangbangers, drug traffickers and potentially other high-profile members of Gotham’s underworld, how could you resist such a gathering of information?

“You s’posed to be hero or a villain, girlie?” a gruff guy by the bar asked. His accent confirmed that he wasn’t from here.

You smiled behind the domino mask. “Depends on who you ask.”

Your ears overflowed with various bits of information that you could follow up on. As far as seeing anything interesting, there was nothing. No odd hook-ups or drug deals being made but perhaps the night was still too young.

“I knew Red Hood was a little bitch but I didn’t know he was a bitch with tits too.”

You stopped what you were doing, feeling self-conscious in your costume. You knew that voice. You felt his eyes stalk you around the venue, not daring to make eye contact though he tried to provoke you. Did he really leave the safety of his dark walls just to insult you? No, you knew he was more calculated than that.

You knew what he wanted. You just weren’t sure if you wanted to give it to him. You didn’t acknowledge his comment and continued to linger amongst the crowd, throwing a glance over your shoulder every once in a while.

When enough time had passed and you were sure he had left the scene, you also left the party. His intrusion made you uncomfortable. Feeling stalked throughout the gathering, you spoke little, choosing to stay in more well-lit areas.

As you left the main doors, you saw a familiar figure by the entrance. Surprisingly there were many dressed as him tonight but you knew it was him when he straightened up his back a little and puffed out his chest a bit more when you approached him.

“Here to bust the party, Red? I never took you for a narc.” You commented snidely. If he was here for the drug bust, he’s two hours late.

Jason eyed your outfit. “The only person getting turned in tonight is you.”

You raised an eyebrow at him before letting out a haughty laugh. He had to be bullshitting you. You walked past him, heading towards the suite you requested during this exchange. You didn’t intend to use it until now. Earlier you just added it to your price just to see if they would.

Jason followed you with his eyes only. You turned around, unsure if his footsteps were quiet or if he really wasn’t following you.

“It’s too early in the night for you to be concussing, babe. The only person getting turned _on_ tonight is you.” You smiled wickedly. “Well, maybe both of us, if you play your cards right.”

Your encouragement was enough. Hearing his steps behind you, you lead him to privacy.

“What? You don’t like my costume?” You teased. He was oddly quiet your entire walk there. You looked around, checking for cameras and bugs. If they wanted to continue receiving information from you, they’d know better than to do that.

Jason clicked his tongue. “Baby, baby, baby… How many times do I have to tell you that this isn’t how couples costumes work?” You scoffed in reply.

Jason watched as you meandered throughout the room, pulling curtains and sheets back, feeling around at random parts of the furniture. The Kevlar suit clung to your curves and the bilateral drop leg holsters brought attention to your hips. And were those real pistols in the holsters?

You finally stopped and stood before him, an impatient look across your face. The silence was obnoxious and something needed to be done about it.

He smirked. “So this is what you meant when you told me to go fuck myself?”

You ignored his taunt. “Ya know, as I was getting ready tonight, I was wondering how I could possibly put those knee pads to good use.”

“As if making sure my knees aren’t fucked isn’t good use enough? I don’t think you want _that_ to be the reason why I’m limping.”

You walked over to the large button-tufted chair by the window, sitting down dramatically with your legs spread wide, black combat boots placed on top of the matching footstool. Jason was glad you opted for the Red Hood outfit with the lensless domino mask. Mischief made your eyes sparkle.

“Come over here and test out my idea.”

“And if I don’t?”

You pulled one of the pistols out of the holster, aiming it at him. An eyebrow lifted in question. Did you seriously pull a gun on him? _Him_ , the Red Hood who’s known for wielding dual pistols? Probably the most skilled marksman in Gotham?

The very image was _cute_ : you, his person of interest as Bruce called you, so small and delicate against him, only capable of running away, holding a gun to his face.

There was some sick twisted part of Jason that was thrilled about the danger you’re putting him in. He had spent so much time chasing after you, his endurance was running low. To have you coming to him, demanding him to pleasure you, sent Jason to a state of hyperarousal. His mind was racing with possibilities.

Once in front of you, you gave the Red Hood more commands. “Take off your helmet and get on your knees.”

Jason eyed you carefully. Rule one of gun safety: never point at anything you didn’t intend to shoot. He looked at your finger placement. At least you had enough sense to not have your finger on the trigger. Slowly he kneeled before you, finding his home in-between your legs.

He smiled as he saw a faint tremor on the two fingers that lay against the barrel. You were scared. _Cute._

“Ya know, it’s pretty hot, babe, seeing you with a replica of my pistol. I thought there was only one gun of mine that you knew how to handle.”

You felt yourself squirm under his gaze, thankful that there were white out lenses to block its intensity. You steadied your aim again, placing the gun against his temple now that he was closer.

And now that he was closer, you could feel his hot breath against your thighs, the pattern irregular. You weren’t sure if the Red Hood would be into this, given his record of initiating interactions first. You didn’t dare to ask him either, in fear that the smooth talker would mock your desires.

A smack of lips against skin alerted you to where he was traveling. The route he took was winding and deliberate. His fingertips would trailblaze the plains of your thighs, taking pause near its final destination then suddenly veering off, never quite meeting its final destination. You sighed in frustration. Soon after a kiss or his tongue would leave wet trails behind. He wasn’t moving fast enough.

“Speed it up, Red.”

He looked up at you, a cruel smile on his face. “No.”

“You look good in the Kevlar,” he cooed, continuing to kiss every inch of your thighs except where you wanted him to the most.

“But I don’t like that other people thought that too.” His brows suddenly furrowed, unsure of what displeased him more: his confession or the suit that lay between his mouth and your pussy.

“Take it off.” He commanded. Sure, those at that criminal gathering could eyefuck you, but only Jason would be the one to fuck you tonight. The thought of others leering at you with their undeserving eyes burned something deep inside him.

“Are you really in the position to be making demands?” You reminded him of the gun pressed against his head. The tip felt warm now, used to his body heat.

“Please? _Pretty please._ ”

You complied begrudgingly, slipping out of the suit and leather jacket. There’d be more opportunities for the Red Hood to beg in the way you wanted him to.

Jason loved the bounce of your tits as you freed them. Or maybe it wasn’t just the bounce. It was also that hateful and annoyed look you had on your face, staring down Jason as if he was the scum of the earth. He felt like it too, for enjoying this power struggle too much. 

You went to undo the belt that held the holsters. “Keep it.” The belt now slung low at your hips, still in place.

Now undressed and positioned for him, Jason could get to work. He gave your pussy a needy lick, savoring the taste that gathered there. You gave him a content sigh.

He focused on your clit next, the soft bud challenging him. Jason gave it a soft suck, knowing it couldn’t beat him. Your thighs lightly squeezing his head proved his point. He gave it a few laps before returning attention to your aching hole. He probed its entrance with his tongue but knew you weren’t satisfied when you dragged his head back up to your clit.

“I need your fingers.” The gun applied more pressure against him, trying to remind Jason who was in control. You held it more steadily, more confidently. As much as he loved your compliance, he loved your defiance and command even more.

Happily, he took off his gloves to insert two eager fingers inside you. Sighing against your center, he couldn’t wait to sink himself into your heat.

Fingers and mouth working together now, he worked hard to make you cum instead of tease you. The quick laps and rough pace that the Red Hood was going at was exactly what you needed. Finding your G-spot was just an added bonus. You shuddered against him as you came against his mouth. He never let up, even putting your thighs against his shoulders so he could get closer.

He rose up triumphantly, sucking any remnant traces of wetness off his fingers. Jason looked down at the heaving mess before him, your gun had dropped from its previous position soon after he found your most sensitive spot.

“We’re not done yet,” the threat broken by heavy panting and high, breathy speech. You called out his color as more of a needy whine. You pushed the pistol against his chest, your touch light. He fell backwards against the bed to humor you.

There were only sounds of rustling clothes and frustrated grunts as Jason feverishly removed them. Your free hand tried to help him but served more as a distraction as it grazed sensitive areas causing a delay in movement.

You gazed down at the sight below you. The warm glow from the hotel lights cast soft shadows on the Red Hood’s chiseled body. Scars from fights he’s been in and the faint marks of stretched skin that made room for muscles decorated his body. To you, he looked perfect. If only he would let you see his eyes…

Jason didn’t show it but he felt unnerved under your watch. There was nothing left to cover him aside from his mask. He felt the heat of your stare, head to toe, as if trying to burn his body into your memory. The logical side tried to remind him that no, you were looking at him so keenly for clues, identifying marks to later on expose him.

Your free hand made its presence known as you languidly ran across his body, equally as slow as he was with his tongue earlier. You traced his V-cut, following it diagonally to your sex drive’s desire. You grazed it softly and it twitched, starved for your touch. Jason bucked into your hand to get more of your grip.

Feeling generous, you allowed him to do it, rubbing the precum all over his head. Jason could feel how wet you were against the thigh you straddled. He knew you wanted this as badly as him. His logical side had hushed with its rationalities now, instead cheering him on to fuck you.

Jason’s eyes caught a glimpse of metal and forgot that you tried to threaten him. He followed the weapon as you rubbed it against your tits. So achingly slow, it made its way to your pussy. You used the wide edge of the barrel to rub your clit. Your movements coated it in your wetness. As always when it came to you, Jason found himself stroking his member.

You decided to end your mutual misery, repositioning the gun to face him. Slowly, to hide your eagerness, you lowered yourself onto his cock. Bottomed out, you both moaned in ecstasy. _Finally._

Jason held onto your hips to steady you as you rode his cock. Your hair was loose and wild as you bounced up and down. You loved the feeling of reaching his tip, only to go all the way down and feel filled again. The Red Hood’s thrusts were rough as he chased his own orgasm. You told him to slap your ass and make it hurt. You wanted a reminder for the morning.

Suddenly remembering the gun, you looked down at the man below you, caught half-way through a moan.

“Don’t forget who’s in control here. I could easily blow your brains out.”

The threat came strangled and raw, your voice cracking at odd inflections. Your voice was starved for air as your chest heaved at irregular intervals. The pistol was pointed in his general direction but off mark, the shooter clearly distracted. You were so close to cumming.

“Oh, I didn’t forget, love,” his voice low and dark as he focused on your warmth. The term of endearment sounded more like a mocking sneer.

“Instead of pulling through with your little threat, you’re too busy letting me fuck your brains out.” You gasped as the Red Hood buried his thick cock inside you once more, proving his point.

“And you love it, don’t you?” The pistol deviated from its target again as you responded with a breathy yes.

“Just admit that you’re a little fucking slut for my cock.” He smacked your ass to demean you further. Your voice was stuck, whether due to defiance or pleasure, you weren’t sure.

He grabbed your hips to lay you down so that he was on top. With ease, he disarmed you, tossing the pistol aside. You told yourself you _let_ him do that. Your hands found their way into his hair and onto his neck as you briefly thought of choking him before changing your mind. Jason smiled wickedly as he watched you writhe in pleasure below him, the roles finally reversed.

“It’s cute what you tried here tonight, but don’t forget who fucking owns you.”

—

“Would you like to talk about why you did what you did?” She asked. You were more closed off today.

“No.”

She sighed. “Well, would you rather discuss why that man at the party upset you so much?”

You weighed her two options, trying to decide which would be more painful for her to rip information about.

“It just felt… strange initiating sex. I’m used to being reactionary towards it. If it was offered, I would take it. Yeah, I’d go out when I was bored or lonely and press my luck, but I never actually made the moves myself. I always just let it happen to me. I can’t remember a time after what happened when I did that.”

She scribbled more notes and you wanted to rip that damn notebook out of her hands to see what the fuck she thought was so wrong with you, if you were actually regressing in this process. You took a deep inhale and slow exhale. No, you’re just lashing out because you said something vulnerable and she reacted in a way you didn’t like.

Tapping her pen thoughtfully against her lips and briefly flipping through her notes, she spoke. “I think it’s good that you tried something so greatly out of your comfort zone with someone you trust.”

You wanted to protest at her comment about the Red Hood being someone you trusted. But you already knew the response she’d give you: a push up for her glasses, a knowing smile and more questions about your feelings for him.

“Initiation can be a sign of your changing attitudes and feelings towards sex.”

“I guess,” you shrugged. “But I thought I’d be the one in control.”

An eyebrow raise, “You weren’t?”

“I mean, I was at first, but…” You trailed off, thinking about the previous night.

His words echoed in your head and sent shivers down your spine: “Don’t forget who fucking owns you.” He didn’t let you forget. How could you after that night? You let the Red Hood ravage you after and admitted to the things he accused you of: that you wanted him, that you needed him.

“Did you feel as powerless as you feared?”

“…No.”

She added more words to her fucking notebook.

—

Jason knew the consequences of coming to Dick, the questions, those stupid knowing smiles. He already mentally prepared for Dick to make even more unannounced visits to Wayne Enterprises.

Dick grinned. He honestly didn’t have his hopes up that Jason would open about you. So when he heard the telltale sounds of someone breaking into his apartment, he yelled with near-girlish delight at the sight of his little brother crawling through the window.

“All I’m really hearing is that you both call each other ‘babe’ and ‘baby.’”

Jason scowled.

“And a one-time ‘love’ on your part… which I’m not really sure why you added that in other than to brag.”

Jason’s fingers itched for his gun, wanting to shoot that damn Dick Grayson shit eating grin.

“So do you think this is a honey trap or not?”

The older ex-Robin sighed, running a hand through his hair. Bruce really fucked up the birds and the bees with Jason or maybe the poor kid didn’t have enough experience in adolescence to learn on his own. Maybe he’d have to buy Jason some romance novels for his birthday.

He looked at the heavily edited footage Jason showed him, some scenes being similar to the file Bruce gave him.

“Well, we can never be 100% sure in our line of work, Little Wing. Hey! If you keep on making that face, it’s gonna stay like that forever!” Jason could already feel the frown on his face slowly becoming his resting face.

“Look, any relationship requires a certain amount of trust and vulnerability. The fact that you haven’t thrown her in jail or even that you want her to be your partner shows that you trust her up to a certain point. You at least trust her enough to be a part of what you do and who you are.”

Jason sat in deep thought, mulling over Dick’s opinion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you mean this isn’t how Jason’s gun kink is supposed to work?!


	16. What Ifs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: smut, angst, adult language, vague mentions of trauma

“What, Red? Feeling shy after our little gun fight from earlier? Surprised I could handle that load?”

The Red Hood said nothing, rolling his shoulders back to remove any tightness he had from his previous fight. Jason thought back to that night and how pretty you looked beneath him, covered in his cum. He was getting hard again.

“Why are you here?” You shouldn’t be out on the docks where anyone could see you, where anyone could see you two together. It wasn’t safe.

“If I remember correctly, you said you were going to take care of me… Can’t a lost little kitten come back to its owner?” You pouted.

Of course Jason wanted to take care of you. He meant it too. Jason wanted to whisk you away from your criminal life. He wanted to give you somewhere safe and somewhere warm to stay. It was in the quiet hours where there was nothing but stillness and no one around that he’d wish that you could be right there in his arms.

But that wasn’t the context he said it in. You were trying to twist his words. How could he trust you when all you did was try to manipulate him?

In the moment you were referring to, you were underneath him and disarmed. Did you even try to reach for the gun after? Jason watched your mouth twist with every move he made, listened for every noise that came out of your throat. He took an enticing nipple in his mouth and gave a soft suck, testing your reaction to his mouth there. Your hands in his hair told him everything. He tried pinching the other nipple while his mouth continued its work on the other one. You brought him closer to you.

“Red, ugh, puh… puh –uh, _please_.” You begged him. He had stopped grinding into you to pay attention to your tits, which was nice. But it’d feel a whole lot nicer if that cock of his would actually move.

He rose from your chest after he had his fill of tormenting you. He used a thumb on your chin to look into your eyes and see how much you wanted him.

“That’s right, baby. Let the big, bad Red Hood take care of you. I promise I’ll make you feel real good.”

The Red Hood only hummed an acknowledgement at your goading.

You were getting annoyed with his limited response. Was it so wrong of you to want validation? You didn’t want him to _actually_ take care of you. You just wanted to hear something – _anything_ –that showed that he cared about you in the same way you cared for him.

“Red…” You tried to reason with him, getting close enough to place a gloved hand on his shoulder, rubbing the tension away or perhaps making it worse. “Babe, _c’mon_. Please be more honest. _For your sake_. Can’t I hear those words again?”

He bristled at your pet names. You took note. “Don’t call me that.”

“Hmm, alright then _, love_. Please be more honest for your sake. Can I hear those words again?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You pulled away from him sharply and left angry, knowing this was going to be all you’d get from him tonight. Jason watched as you slowly retreated, scanning the area for any potential threats. He felt something gnaw away inside him.

—

Later that night, Jason took down the last known dealers of Ivy’s aphrodisiac. Despite Ivy handling Scarecrow and most of his dealers, some of the product was still leaking into Gotham’s black market. He didn’t consider running into the plant woman herself as he finished zip-tying the two drug dealers and throwing them in the shipping container the drugs were originally hidden in.

“Thanks for watching over what’s mine, Red.” She said, using a vine to snatch the drugs from inside the container. After safely storing the pills on her person, she walked away.

Jason called out to the redhead. Whatever it was that was eating away at him told Jason that she had the answers. He had to know her intentions that night.

“Why did you let me watch you two that night?”

She paused to let him catch up to her.

“Why?” She asked, seemingly talking more to herself instead to him. “I just happened upon two broken little birds who needed to stare at their reflection.”

“What’s that even supposed to mean?”

“Think about it, _Red_.”

Jason really didn’t see you as such. Was the reflection your shared history with trauma? But Jason never saw you as broken. No, that night you looked so beautiful to him. He was in awe, watching you orgasm after letting yourself be so vulnerable with Ivy. How could you come undone when you were barely holding it together?

If anything, you and he were divided by a one-way mirror. On the lit side, maybe you saw yourself reflected in him. He doubted it. You could never be a despicable man like him. But watching you from the darkened end, Jason saw himself in you. In the light, he could see what he had the potential to be. Maybe he could heal too.

Ivy tapped her foot in impatience, too busy to wait for Jason to figure it out.

“Look, I don’t have all night to wait for you to get a clue. You might see yourself in her, but you haven’t done the mental labor of healing like she has. Don’t trick yourself into thinking that you’re better.”

—

You looked at her and put your head in your hands, exhausted and kept up at night by the Red Hood’s torments or as of late, the lack thereof.

“What about his rejection hurts the most?”

“It’s like, whenever he throws me a bone, I can’t help but get excited and get hopeful. Yet in the end, I’m just this dumb bitch falling for someone who doesn’t give a fuck about me.”

“Then why do you come back to him?”

“I told you _already_ and I’ve told multiple times _before_ ,” you said, exasperation apparent. You heard her turn the page so she’d have more room for her notes.

“What happened to not wanting him? To feeling like you ‘couldn’t be intimate with anyone in any capacity?’” She asked, using air quotes.

“It’s human, isn’t it? To want a little bit more? To want to feel wanted?”

“How is having him desire you different from the casual sex you had before?”

You frowned deeply. This bitch was really dragging the words out of you today.

“I never said this was any different.”

She laughed. “You really are the dishonest type.”

—

Jason’s voice sung quietly as he focused on disassembling his pistols for routine cleaning. Years of doing so had turned the once-chore into a much-needed catharsis.

He didn’t flinch as he saw his phone ring again. Alfred, this time. One look into his call log and one could see that a certain playboy millionaire had been trying to contact him over the past few weeks.

Jason answered the call and placed it on speaker phone. After greetings were shared, Alfred went straight to the point.

“Master Richard has taken the liberty of telling anyone who will listen in the Manor that you’ve got yourself a little pussy cat.”

Jason sighed. Of course Dick would and of course he would say something as repulsive as that.

“Naturally, Master Damian is preparing to raid _all_ of your safe houses if you do not procure any evidence of said animal and show him the creature personally. He said you have three days.”

Double sigh.

“Forgive me, I couldn’t help but be curious about her. There was an extensive file on her that was merely lounging around in the Bat Cave.”

A euphemism for snooping.

“You too, Alfred?”

“Curiosity killed the cat. I just wanted to see if your little kitten is safe.” Jason rolled his eyes.

“People can approach others without ulterior motives. Though, I can understand Master Bruce’s concern with her resume.”

You must really be a thorn in Bruce’s side if Alfred was also lecturing him about this.

“I know that the vocalization of emotions can be difficult. You are Bruce Wayne’s son, after all. However, I truly believe it would be beneficial if you shared your true feelings with her.”

An exaggerated scoff instead of a sigh this time. Yeah, Bruce really is threatened by you.

“Master Bruce wasn’t the best teacher when it comes to these topics. I myself am partially to blame.”

The older man coughed in a slight way that alerted Jason that he was about to get emotional. Jason had to prepare himself too for whatever it was that Alfred was about to say.

“However, Master Jason, I’d like to remind you that you are deserving of both love and affection. I know that you may not believe it to be so, but you are worthy of having good things in your life. Please show yourself some compassion.”

“Thanks _Alfie_.” Alfred smiled. Hopefully his words got through to him.

—

You looked both ways before crossing the normally busy street in front of the Hotel Belle Monico. With your dress hiking up your legs as you crossed, you got excited at the thought of peeling out of the scant piece of cloth and showering. You couldn’t wait to get home. Lately, doing work like this has been making you feel dirty. It wasn’t the blackmail or extortion either. You just wanted to wash away the feelings of guilt when you knew in a few hours you’d be in the arms of the Red Hood. But why should you even feel guilty? He was adamant on denying his feelings for you. You were simply working. So what was so wrong with what you were doing?

As you entered the elevator in the parking structure across from the hotel, you sent the videos and pictures of a certain gang member to your client. They’d wire the rest of your money in an hour. You didn’t look up when you heard the elevator ding and let another person on. It wasn’t until you caught a glimpse of red in your peripherals that you turned to face the person beside you.

The Red Hood stood with his hands in pockets, watching as each number lit up to get to your designated floor. He stood as if this was a perfectly normal thing for him to be doing at ten o’clock at night. He stood as if he didn’t just reject your declaration of infatuation at the docks.

You clicked your tongue in annoyance. You weren’t ready to deal with this right now.

“Seriously? Why do you do stupid shit like that?”

“Like what?”

“One day you’re saving people being blackmailed free of charge, next you’re sleeping with criminals for a quick buck.”

You looked at him incredulously and Jason didn’t know why.

“I never said I was hero.”

He never thought that you were. He just thought that you changed, even just a little. He thought that maybe you’d be done with this part of your intel gathering at least.

A loud ding and you got off the lift and walked with a quick pace towards your car, the only one on this floor. You heard the Red Hood’s footsteps behind you. He wanted you to know that the conversation wasn’t over.

“Why do you do stupid shit like this?”

It was his turn to act confused. “Like what?”

“The Iceberg Lounge, the rooftop, the fucking surveillance cameras? _Right now_?”

You saw yourself heaving in your reflection against the helmet in different shades of red. Red was definitely how you felt right now: pissed about his ambivalence towards you, pissed about the affections he seemingly handed out on a whim, pissed that you still indulged him despite the shitty treatment. His silence made you angrier.

“Oh, you think I didn’t know about the cameras? I spy on people for a living, _babe_.” You spat out. “I knew I was being watched. Figured it was you. Catwoman just confirmed it when she gave me one of your little cameras.”

Jason didn’t acknowledge your accusation. Did Catwoman tell you that she gave away where you’d be too?

“Why do you continue to come after me if you don’t even give a fuck about me?” Your voice was shrill now and bounced off the concrete walls.

“I want you to work with me.”

“You want me to _what_?” Jason didn’t realize how loud your voice could get.

“That is… That’s… ugh –that’s absolute fucking bullshit.” You raged on, getting closer to the man so he could feel the heat of your boiling blood.

“It’s not.”

As many steps as you were taking towards the Red Hood, he was taking the same amount towards you. His large frame pushed you back where you eventually found yourself up against your car, the handle to the driver’s side against your lower back.

You tried not to cry. You really tried your hardest. It was cry of frustration, you told yourself, not of feelings being hurt. Why the hell was the Red Hood so fucking dumb? Was he really that oblivious to his own feelings that he’d make up such an idiotic excuse to be around you? Did he really think you’d believe that?

You took a shaky inhale in a weak attempt to calm yourself down. Your face was different shades of red. Flushed with anger and frustration, your eyes were blood shot and wet from crying. Your lips were closer to a burgundy bruise as you bit them in an attempt to stop their trembling.

“So you flirted with me, spied on me, seduced me _for months_ to get me to _work_ with you? And for _what_? So I could be your little bitch and gather intel?”

“You must think I’m a fucking idiot.”

Jason didn’t reply. It didn’t sound stupid when he explained it to Bruce or Dick or when they repeated his plan back to him. Yet here you stood before him, red-faced and mascara running, making accusations. Jason couldn’t lose you to a little misunderstanding.

“Look, Red,” you swallowed, trying to gather your courage, scared of the answer you’d receive. “If this didn’t mean anything more to you than work, _please_ let’s just stop this now. _Tell me._ It’s just –I can’t… I– ”

Jason watched as your body heaved, not from desire but sadness. Big, wet tears rolled down your face. Your makeup was ruined.

“And what if I don’t want to stop?” He asked in that familiar low voice. When did he take off the helmet? Your orientation to time lost to your tears.

Your voice was cracking, “ _Red._ ”

He said your name so softly, the noise nearly lost to your wails and the city’s sounds.

“What if I don’t want to stop?” He asked again, pressing you against the driver’s window. You couldn’t answer. You only stared back at him.

“What if I want to keep on chasing you all across the city? Or what if I want to know you? Or see how beautiful you are with different shades of hair and at least a dozen set of colored eyes?”

You felt his strong arms around you now, crushing you against him. That familiar old library smell filled your senses as you heard his heart’s beat. He restrained you against him until your breaths were stable, forcing you to pause for this moment. 

What if the Red Hood really did want all of that? But his rhetorical questions weren’t answers. They weren’t confirmations.

And it was you, after all this time, who said you two couldn’t even be together. Not now. Not like this. So why did your heart race at the thought of this chase never ending?

In the quiet lull of two beating hearts and city sound, all logic and reason had left you for the night. Your encounter was already run with sentiment anyway.

Your lips crushed his, desperately this time, maybe for the last. You wouldn’t know. He didn’t want to answer anyway. It was a kiss from the tips of your toes, threatening to make you fall deeper into whatever pit of madness love called its home. The sheer force would have made Jason stumble if he didn’t hold you so tight. A searching tongue knocked on the front of his teeth trying to find its way around his mouth and at last two lovers spoke in a language only romance knows.

He was the first to break away, as he usually did.

“What if I want you to take my soul?”

A hand reached up to brush the faint scars that marked his face. At first it was a light swipe of your thumb on the apple of his cheek. More fingers added on to trail down his face, thumb in lead, down to his lips, down to his heart.

“Then show me your eyes,” you challenged.

Would that be all it took to get you to stay? Jason thought of consequence and figured it wouldn’t matter anyway if you were gone.

Blue eyes looked down at you and you were lost in his tundra, certainly frozen from his gaze. You had never seen anything so beautiful. But a searing hot kiss moved you, melted you before you could slip through the fingers of the Red Hood.

“What if I want to take care of you?” the Red Hood continued with his questions.

Your body jolted against the cool metal of your car’s hood. The Red Hood kept you in place, looking down at you with amusement dancing through his eyes. He leaned closer to you, black hair messy, not quite enough to pin you down completely but enough to feel his longing.

Jason straightened up and brought a leg to his lips, leaving red bite marks and bruising kisses, not caring that this was where another man had been. The contrast of gentle and rough, flat and tip, made your skin tingle. He made you want his mouth elsewhere, his hands elsewhere but his eyes only on you.

“What if I told you that I lo–”

You cut him off. “Stop,” with a sharpness that reminded him of his favorite knife.

You both knew where one word could lead you and you didn’t feel like falling for his trap. One word could change everything and turn it all into how it was before. No, you didn’t need to hear it. You didn’t want to hear it. Not now. Not like this.

No, instead you dragged him to you once more. Not to kiss but to feel.

—

“If you do any more, you might make me say the L word.”

“Say it then.”

A pause.

“I fucking loathe you.”


	17. Only

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: smut, adult language, humiliation, graphic depictions of violence, mentions of sexual assault

“Pretty boy blue, huh?” You gazed into the Red Hood’s eyes for the hundredth time tonight. His eyes were just as breathtaking as the first time you saw them.

The only thing that separated you from the earth was a thin blanket with hardly enough room for the two of you. Limbs entangled to share the blanket on top. It was a rare quiet night in Gotham and the moonlight and rose garden you laid in hidden in did nothing to dispel the romance in the air.

“I’ve been called rugged, handsome, _sexy_ even. But pretty? That’s a first.”

No, it wasn’t the first time. He could clearly hear the Joker’s voice whispering in his ear, calling him his pretty boy, his pretty bird. He laughed that obnoxious cruel laugh when he saw the goosebumps rise from Jason’s bruised and bloodied skin. He hated the way the fluorescent lighting made his pasty white hands glow, dragging and scratching all the way down until –

He felt a hand on his face and dermatomes reacted, causing him to flinch.

You drew your hand back, not intending to surprise him.

“You might be some damned prince under the neon lights and in smoke-filled bars. But here? With the moonlight spilling all over you, you’re _so_ pretty, Red.”

He scoffed. If anything, the moonlight highlighted his scars, the memories of broken flesh and violence. It showcased bones reset again and again, chapped lips and tired eyes. The parking structure cast shadows upon him but underneath the night sky, there was nothing to hide him from your curious eyes.

“No, really you are.”

Dark hair laid askew from a combination of helmet head and your own fingers. This time you warned him before you were going to touch him before pushing his hair back. There was a thin, nearly faded scar by his temple that you brushed with your thumb before trailing your hand down to cup his face. Silver light and long lashes cast shadows on his skin. They darkened those chilling eyes, making them resemble broken pools of ice, epicenter revealing a darker ocean beneath. And that mouth. His lips were a soft pink, chapped from running around or maybe a lack of care. But you loved watching his lips move, to twist into an arrogant smirk or twitch as he tried not to smile.

That stubborn huff wouldn’t be able to change your mind.

“It must have been difficult to take off the mask, so thank you.”

Jason mumbled something incoherent in reply. _Pretty is good_ , he reassured himself. _It’s a compliment._

As the subtle warmth of a blush creeped into your hand, you smiled to yourself. True to his tough, bad boy image, he would never admit that he liked what you told him. He’d never admit his feelings for you but neither would you for him. At least not your honest feelings or to its full extent.

Peppering his face with light kisses, your lips went over faint scars soon trailing down to his neck. You paid special attention to the scar on his neck where it looked like he got nicked with a knife. You felt him get stiff and moved your mouth along. His large hand hovered by your head, applying light pressure on spots you kissed that he seemed to like. Soon his hand was tangled in your hair, pushing you deeper into his skin, close enough where you could be one.

A rogue hand traveled south.

“What about Ivy?”

You laughed. “That didn’t stop you earlier.”

The rose bush you laid next to rustled in agreement.

“Besides, Ivy likes to watch.”

—

“Well, loverboy, how’s it going?” Dick asked Jason.

Tonight brought them to the edge of Gotham where some gunrunners planned on doing their exchange as the train tracks diverged.

“It’s going.”

“Secretive as ever, huh, Hood?”

“The Red Hood being secretive? What’s new?” Tim chimed in.

Who involved the little twerp anyway? This mission needed force and strength not coffee and hentai. Didn’t he say at work that he had some 4 AM international call with foreign investors? This punk should be asleep if he didn’t want to disappoint Daddy Wayne.

“Ah, Red Robin being absolutely generic and bland, just as your name suggests. What’s new?”

Typical Jason. He’s used that line multiple times before. It lost its effect after its second utterance.

“What? Sad that she didn’t find your dead Robin jokes funny?”

Jason could hardly show you his face without wanting to vomit. To open up and tell you about his life before? As poor Jason Todd, the lock pick kid who stole tires so he could have his first meal in three days? As Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne’s adopted son? Batman’s second Robin? He couldn’t even tell anyone about the extent of what the Joker did instead allowing them to reach their own conclusions. He couldn’t let anyone know the trauma of coming back to life instead letting Ra’s and Talia al Ghul bare witness to his agony.

Jason wouldn’t be able to handle it.

He couldn’t handle the way you smiled whenever you made eye contact. He couldn’t handle how dark your eyes became, pupils wide from interest. He couldn’t handle your gentle touch or sweet nothings. He couldn’t handle your expressions of gratitude for letting you in.

The train’s warning whistle stopped Jason dead in his tracks. It was time to go.

—

“I have sex when I feel threatened. I’m overly sexual when I’m scared. It’s the only way I know how to exert control and power because that’s when I felt the most powerless.”

“Hmm, that explains _several_ of your past actions.”

 _Shut the fuck up._ You really had to stop snapping at her. She was only trying to help. You bit your tongue instead.

“But he didn’t have to use sex. He was able to control me with just one act of intimacy.”

“Being vulnerable is a different kind of strength.”

You hummed in agreement. “It is.”

“A part of me feels like he didn’t open himself up to me willingly though. I had to drag it out of him. I already told you that he’s rejected me before and he rejected me again. It was almost like he did it on a _dare_ just to show me that he could.”

—

Late nights, early mornings, sometimes twice within 24 hours. He fucked your face doing recon on a rooftop, bent you over his bike for quickie. You met him in alleyways and dirty bathroom stalls for a touch, a suck, a fuck, an embrace.

Every meeting was another chance, another moment for you two to walk away before Cupid shot you in the kneecaps and threw you into the abyss.

But all sense left you, the only cents to be made at the office you shared with him.

You didn’t care that the Red Hood masqueraded as some dumb intern named Jace. You’ve done worse. You just wanted to know why he did it and how genuine his actions really were.

Walking up to Wayne Enterprises, you yawned. You met up with the man from the party a few hours before the time you normally got ready for work, deciding to give him what he wanted on the condition that this would be the last time. You couldn’t sleep after. Today would be a long day.

—

You didn’t tell Jason that you knew he was undercover at Wayne Enterprises.

He could feel it. He could feel it in your eyes when he caught you staring during meetings. He could feel it when your fingertips happened to always brush his whenever you handed him paperwork.

He could hear it when you’d complain, loud enough so he could hear, about how tired you were from last night. When asked, you’d joke and say that you didn’t want a call from HR. But Jason knew better.

Just like how he knew better than to fall for the little traps you’d set up to make him jealous.

You thought that paying more attention to Dick would make Jason jealous. It didn’t. You engaged with the workplace gossips, talking about which one was the cutest. He didn’t care.

But you knew that when his apathy wouldn’t budge, you had to do something drastic to see how he really felt about you. Jason just didn’t know if Tim was in on it too.

—

“Tim!” You ran to your boss’s side. The young CEO looked pale and swayed, nearly falling over if it weren’t for the chair he was weakly clutching.

You grabbed him from behind to gently assist him to the ground. His forehead felt hot as you laid the young man in your lap. He must have been exhausted from overworking. You murmured sweet nothings about how he’ll be okay and all he needed to do was rest.

“Watch it, _Pieta._ ” He said gruffly, taking Tim from your arms.

This is what you must have felt like when you watched Bat Girl take care of him. At least _she_ didn’t make such a show of it. Jason wasn’t sure if he wanted to crush the hand that caressed his replacement’s face or to punch in the face of such a weakling.

“Be careful, Jay,” you called out to him as he unceremoniously dumped Tim’s tired body on the leather couch tucked in the corner of his office.

All Tim needed was a few hours of sleep and he’d go back to being Batman’s perfect little sidekick. And Tim thought that Jason was being an asshole when he said the third Robin was out past his bedtime.

After throwing Tim on the couch, Jason stormed off to get away from the scene that played out before him. He faintly heard you call out to him using his diminutive. He hated you for trying to be cute now.

—

Jason replayed the scene over and over in his head as he pistol whipped one of Black Mask’s henchmen.

The idiot thought he could prove himself to his boss by attacking the Red Hood. Jason stepped over his unconscious body, almost feeling pity for the man. Black Mask didn’t give a fuck about his lackeys failed attempts at bringing him down. His act of courage would be rewarded with a stint in jail and a concussion.

He wiped his pistol clean of blood and cracked his knuckles. It was easier to let his feelings take form and action than to say it out loud. But after his anger and envy connected with a jaw or an already broken set of ribs, those emotions still lingered in his mind.

You didn’t even know who the fuck Tim Drake was. You didn’t know what he did to Jason. You didn’t know that the little shit obsessed over him, Dick and Bruce. That after Jason’s death he begged Bruce –no, _forced_ him –to take him in as the new Robin. Bruce didn’t _find_ him. He didn’t _want_ him. Tim Drake forcefully inserted himself into their lives. And that was just their _personal_ history.

You didn’t know who Tim Drake was or his relationship to Jason so why the fuck were you acting that way with him?

You begged Jason to bring you closer and he did. He didn’t want to but he did. He had to. And for what? For you to shit on his feelings and drape yourself all over Tim? Maybe Bruce was right in being suspicious of you.

 _Crack!_ Jason looked down at his boot. He was vaguely aware that he was beating someone else up. _Right_ , the other henchman who hid after the first punch was thrown. The man cried as the Red Hood relieved some pressure off of his broken hand.

He looked at his face, swollen and bloody, only recognizing him based off the tattoo near his hairline. The man was a known predator, in and out of Blackgate for molestation and sexual battery.

Jason looked at the man’s hand again. Blunt force trauma and his boot dirtied the skin. Despite the fracture, a subtle twitch alerted Jason that though he hurt the man, it wasn’t enough. He reached for his pistol. Two shots in the left and one to the right. He wouldn’t be able to touch anyone or hurt anyone anymore.

—

You slunk around the shadows of the GCPD headquarters, dropping off the photos you were able to take of your Mafioso targets. It took more effort but you were able to track their movements again without being distracted by the Red Hood.

When you finally reached your safe house, you tried not to scream as a gloved hand covered your mouth. Your door slammed shut and you were alone with your assailant. You could feel tension in their body language. They had a faint smell of sweat and iron.

They threw you on the couch, revealing themselves to you.

_Red Hood._

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Despite his better judgement, Jason found himself breaking into your apartment, needing answers for your actions.

“Why did you do it?” He asked, thankful that the helmet hid the emotion in his voice.

“Again with the vague questions? That didn’t get us very far in the parking garage either, babe.”

“Why did you touch him and whisper those words in his ear?”

Touch who? Whisper what? You never did anything like that today. You just went to the office and _oh._ You didn’t even plan that one out yourself.

“It was just pure coincidence. You’re reading too much into it, Red.”

He took off his masks so you could see how serious he was.

“You think it’s funny to jerk me around? To make me feel like a damn fool?”

You had never seen him so angry with you before. You wondered if the neighbors two doors down could hear him with how loud he was being.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jason wanted to scream. He wanted to throw something, break something, do _something_ to release this frustration.

You could see how upset the Red Hood was. His eyes had a wild but distant look in them, as if he was going over scenario after scenario and getting more upset with the outcomes. Yet as lively as his eyes were, the rest of his body was still, muscles taut and ready for action.

“I don’t understand what you’re thinking,” you said slowly, trying to be tactful about your approach. “But your jealousy is unfounded.”

“How can you say that when I saw you with my own eyes?”

As much as you tried to empathize with the vigilante, your patience was wearing thin.

“You saw what you saw, but just know that I don’t intend to fuck Tim Drake.”

Your statement seemed to place an unpleasant image in his head. He scowled.

“So you’ve thought of it.”

You wondered if all the trouble the Red Hood gave you was worth it. You should have gone with your gut. Red was a color of warning. This man wasn’t good for your health.

“If it bothers you so much, then find someone else.”

You really didn’t want him to but the suggestion came out anyway.

“Surely I can’t be the only small-time criminal you’re fucking around with?”

“There was never anyone else. It’s only been you.”

His confession was almost lost in the heaviness of the air that surrounded you, nearly pushed down through the floorboards and into an unmarked grave.

He looked at you now with sad, earnest eyes and if you were someone with more of a heart, you’d want to melt his ice even for a little bit. If you were someone with more a heart, you’d offer him warmth, his jealousy and accusations signs of his insecurity. But you were vindictive and couldn’t overlook his rejections. This moment of vulnerability was another instance of him asserting his power over you.

“I don’t believe you.”

Jason pleaded with you. It was confirmation that you wanted, right? That’s why you were so upset at the docks and that’s why you were so upset in the parking garage. But he finally said it. He wanted to run but his body was still. Jason wasn’t anticipating how deeply your words would cut.

You dragged his body to the couch, thankful he was compliant. His sturdy frame bounced a little on the leather cushions. You straddled his hips and held his face in your hands so he could look at nowhere but you.

“I’ll give you what you want, you sad, insecure little boy.”

Jason kissed you with whatever amount of passion he could muster. Your position made it difficult for him to be dominant.

After a losing battle, you broke the kiss with a tug on his hair, hyperextending his neck backwards. Your kisses started from his jaw, pulling his Kevlar suit down to reveal that scar on his neck that he seemed to hate so much. You left a hickey there to remind him in the morning that you’d cover up whatever darkness he had with love, lust or whatever the hell it was that you felt for him.

Jason watched you look at him once more, deeply into his soul.

“There’s no one else, Red. It’s always been you.”

You moved and kneeled before him now. You felt his hardness at your first provocation but you weren’t sure if your honesty turned him off.

Jason helped you take out his swollen member, precum glistening in your dim apartment lighting. He looked at you expectantly.

“What? You want to me praise you and tell you how big you are, baby?”

You teased him about the rooftop and your first time together. Jason just wanted to know where he ranked in your conquests.

You went on, “Want me to tell you that your cock was the best I ever had? That it’s the best I’ll _ever_ have?”

Of course Jason wanted that. He wanted to be the only one that got you off. When you were on your knees, he wanted it to only be for him. He couldn’t deny that he wanted to own you, possess you, keep you for himself only.

You laughed, uncomfortable with his silence. You spat on his cock for lubrication, surprised at the strength of humiliation as an aphrodisiac.

“You’re fucking pathetic.”

As you took him deeply in your throat, Jason moaned, using his hand to control your pace on his cock. You’d occasionally come up for air, mocking his need for validation, his need for security, his need for _you_. It only made him harder.

He resented what you turned him into.


	18. An Opportunity for Healing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: smut, adult language, vague mentions of trauma

You and Jason had no time to process emotions in the throes of passion. The only thing you knew was your need for the other.

It was only in the aftermath, in the cold dark of your safe house and in the empty expanse of your bed that you had time to think about how you really felt.

Despite the comforter that covered your body, you missed his heat against yours. Your hands felt odd being idle, too used to twisting themselves in his dark locks. Your ears rung from years of close proximity to gun fire, his slow even breathing unable to break and distract the high-pitched noises.

As much as his jealous outbursts and strange behavior lately frustrated you, it also made you happy looking back on it now that you weren’t actively dealing with them. A man of dishonest words, his actions told you more about it himself than he ever told you.

The Red Hood wanted you. He wanted you by his side. His outburst was an act of envy, showing to you that his reasons for wanting you beside him weren’t solely for work. You felt high from his earlier submission. But was it because his vulnerability pulled you closer to him or because it showed the control you had over him?

And as much as he wanted you, you still couldn’t help but lay restless and uncertain. Because the Red Hood wanted to change you, to _reform_ you.

“Change isn’t bad, you know,” your therapist gently reminded you. You huffed in disagreement.

“You chose to change the way you were handling your trauma and change the way you healed by seeking me out.” You scowled.

“Look at how you were coping before, if you could even call it that. You were stuck in your old habits. You still kind of are. Don’t you think that something needs to change in order for you to heal?”

—

There was a lot of things that Jason didn’t like.

He didn’t like that you didn’t give him an answer to his request. He didn’t like that you called it bullshit. There was no other way to keep you with him besides that. What other reason could he make up to keep you there? It was either this or jail.

He didn’t like that he invaded your space again out of his selfishness. When you left the first time, he was sure it was because of him. You confirmed it in the parking garage that you knew. He wondered if you hated him for listening in on you and watching you. He was only curious. He didn’t know any other way to approach you. Would you run away again this time? Jason really meant it when he said he’d chase you across the city.

Most of all, Jason didn’t like that he needed you. He told himself time and time again that he didn’t need sex, didn’t need love, didn’t need intimacy of any kind. He was better off alone. He didn’t like the range of emotions you made him feel: the jealousy, the possession, the insecurity, the confusion, the curiosity, the longing, the attachment. He knew them in separate terms and instances, but to feel them all towards one individual was overwhelming. Because in admitting his need for you, he opened himself up to your rejection and Jason doesn’t know if he could handle that.

So when he left you, when he left the comfort of your small, soft body against his, when he left your smart ass comments and the annoying way your hands ran all over him, he felt relief. Because Jason didn’t like that he’d grown comfortable with you. He didn’t like that he missed you.

—

The dark web forums had been full of requests for information but from criminals you didn’t want to associate with, so you’ve been having to do more ground work.

“Coming back for seconds?” You teased when the Red Hood sat down next to you at the bar.

Earlier in the night, he had asked you meet him in East End, Crime Alley specifically. A wandering thought of your demise passed through as you anxiously met up with him at your destination.

“I heard Batman once caught a kid stealing the tires off the Batmobile ‘round here.” He said, coming out of the shadows.

He had you pressed against the brick wall, nowhere to go except in his arms. Jason made sure to hide you from any prying eyes, any potential threats.

“Huh. Hope the kid made a pretty penny and lived like a king after. Prove to the people that there’s some escape from this shithole,” you said, focusing on pulling your panties down.

“Some say Batman sent him off to a better life. Others say he stayed a street rat until he died. Crazy people say he turned him into Robin.”

“So you wanna fuck me at the site of some origin story? Didn’t know you were the romantic type, love.”

The Red Hood fucked you slow with the wall against your back and your ass in his hands. You wanted to know what really happened to the boy, but you doubted that he would tell you.

“I get it. You missed me. Someone’s just too shy to say so right now. ”

He frowned at your observation. _Ouch._

“I did.”

“It’s okay, handsome,” you rubbed his shoulder, wondering if he felt that spark upon contact as well. “I know it’s hard to emote, that’s why you’re normally dressed up as a red-faced robot.”

Your bartender slid you your bill and you threw the required amount with an extra $20 down. You got up to walk back to the car you were renting. He got up with you.

“Oh?” You laughed. “I didn’t know I was taking you home tonight.”

“Only if you want.”

You didn’t like his short answers. You liked him better when he sassed back. What happened in the time between your meetings?

“Well, Red, as much as I would love to…”

You really would have loved to, but you already knew that you two couldn’t be together in the same space, at least not like that.

It was fun to play pretend but you knew in the morning one of you would have to sneak out, stealing away from any prying eyes so as not to compromise who each other were. You knew this from your empty bed the other night. There was no domestic future for the two of you. There were too many things that could wrong.

You were at your car now. You didn’t finish your sentence.

He sounded almost sad. “I know.”

You turned to open the door but he shut it. You looked up at him as he leaned down to kiss you. Your lips met his in an open mouthed kiss, wasting no time to reacquaint yourselves with each other’s bodies. You held his jaw as his arms encircled you to keep you in place.

He pulled away first.

“But that can change. Work with me.” Be with me, he really meant to say.

“ _Please_.”

You didn’t give Jason an answer, choosing to shove him into the backseat of your car instead.

No words spoken, no clothes removed. Only two idiots too caught up in their suspicions and denial entangled in a space too close to hold them. The cramped backseat fogged up the windows but the car didn’t rock. You just wanted to hold him in this moment and think of all the things that you could be if you weren’t who you were.

—

“He asked to me to be with him.”

Your therapist tried to hide her excitement and you watched her contorted facial expressions as she tried not to shriek.

A clearing of her throat and she was back to her professionalism.

“How does that make you feel?”

“…I don’t know.”

You really didn’t. You felt torn about what you wanted. Your brain kept on telling you that it could never be and ran all the scenarios and facts as to why, but your heart kept on entertaining the what if’s.

She knew she wouldn’t be able to get more information out of you than this.

“Love isn’t going to put a band-aid on the things that make you hurt. It isn’t going to make your past somehow more bearable. You’re not going to suddenly become this fully functional adult who’s never known pain.”

You nodded in agreement, and she assessed your body language to see if you were really understanding her.

“But I believe that love is a wonderful agent of change. It can be both the catalyst and the final product.”

She chose her words carefully now so that she wouldn’t trigger your defensiveness, “I’m not saying that you love him or you’re in love with him. I’m just hoping that you love yourself enough to see an opportunity for healing when it presents itself.”

—

Jason looked at his phone. Dick had sent him multiple screenshots of _something_ as mechanical dings rung in the silence of his apartment.

He clicked the attachment.

> _To: tdrake@waynetechdivision.com_
> 
> _It is with my deepest regret that I am resigning from my position as your personal assistant. Although I greatly appreciate the opportunity, beginning with the start of my career in the…_

Jason’s eyes skimmed over the formalities. He knew that you’d quit eventually, especially after getting that tech developer arrested and confirming that you weren’t after Tim Drake.

> _I have to resign because I’ve fallen in love with your intern, more affectionately known as Jay. Due to the professional standards that I hold myself by…_

I’ve fallen in love with your intern, more affectionately known as Jay.

I’ve fallen in love with your intern, Jay.

His brain couldn’t stop fixing the sentence.

I’ve fallen in love with you, Jay.

_I’ve fallen in love with you, Jason._

Fuck it, if you weren’t working there, there was no reason for Jason to be there either. He quickly texted Dick to tell Tim to fuck off and that he quit being his little bitch boy.

Three small dots, then they disappeared, then three small dots appeared again. Suddenly Jason’s screen was bombarded by Dick.

“Well?!” He screeched. Jason pulled the phone from his ear, opting for speaker phone instead. Dick would only get louder from here.

“What do you want me to say?”

“What kind of dirt do you have on her to send me such an email?” He heard Tim’s voice come on.

“Tim! Didn’t you read the email? They’re in love. L-O-V-E LOVE.”

“Bull–”

“Shh! Damian’s here!”

“I can’t believe you convinced me that Todd actually had the heart to care for a kitten, Richard.”

Tim snorted. “Jason’s more likely to adopt a cat or be father than to be in _love_.”

Jason hung up, seeing no point in the conversation. Rather he wanted to talk to you. Was this your answer to his proposition?

—

Jason showed some self-restraint by not ambushing you in your safe house again, but he was growing restless. It was two and a half weeks before he saw you again.

You were moonlighting as a stripper since your sudden departure from Wayne Enterprises. For whatever reason, you felt compelled to go as yourself this time. No wigs, no contacts, no fake tattoos. Your natural self. Sometimes putting up a front and pretending to be someone else day after day could get exhausting.

The club itself was relatively nice. It was clean, as clean as strip clubs could get. The bathrooms had chandeliers. The VIP rooms were actual rooms instead of booths with poorly hung curtains to provide privacy.

Relatively nice didn’t last for long as you heard a loud explosion from the bathroom. The expensive chandelier shattered as patrons and staff alike scrambled to leave.

You scrambled to gather the cash you dropped from when you were exiting the stage, robe disheveled.

You heard gunshots and thuds. In the dust, you saw an outline of two men fighting, one clearly in a more dominant position. You couldn’t make out what they were saying; your ears were still ringing from the explosion. All you knew is that they were in front of the only exits out of this place.

Hopefully they’d be too distracted with each other. Hopefully you wouldn’t get caught in any crossfire. You’d have to hide in the VIP rooms for now.

Running in heels, through rubble and spilled drinks was just as difficult as it sounded. You were slower than normal.

Nearly at the VIP section, you skid to halt from a voice, thankful the platform heels haven’t caused you to break an ankle yet.

“Stop! You’re under arrest… for being sexy.”

_What?_

Nightwing appeared in all of his black and blue glory, a pair of handcuffs swinging from his fingers, a sly smile on his lips.

“I mean, not really. Unless you were doing something… illegal back there?” He motioned towards the section behind him.

You shook your head, unsure where this was going.

“Oh good,” he said, looking relieved. “The Red Hood is the jealous type, you know. Real sensitive too, though he’d never admit it.”

You stiffened at the mention of his name.

“I’ve heard a lot about _you_. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

You laughed. You wouldn’t expect the Red Hood to confide in Nightwing.

“Oh, Nightwing, stop being so cute. Unlike that red hoodlum… I can’t tell if he wants to take me to jail or take me from behind.”

“Maybe it’s a bit of both?” Dick grinned. He couldn’t resist teasing Jason. He should be coming around soon.

You laughed. “I’m fine with either or. It’s just that he’s never honest with intentions.”

“And what if _I_ took you to jail?” He leaned in closer to you, escrima stick in hand and cuffs tucked away.

“Damn, I really hoped that you’d choose to take me from behind,” you teased, wondering if the Red Hood was around to hear. Would he be jealous if he saw you intentionally flirting with Nightwing?

“But sorry, this bird isn’t ready for a cage yet.” You backed up to leave until you felt a sturdy body behind you.

“Sorry Nightwing, but this one is _mine_.”

A strong arm wrapped itself around your shoulders while the other pulled your wrists behind you. It was a position you knew too well.

Nightwing raised his arms in surrender and laughed.

“I’m not trying to take what’s yours, bud. Before you take her jail though, maybe you could help her with that second request.”

He winked at you.

“Guess you got the baddies tied up, huh? I’ll uh, check the front again for any stragglers.”

—

“Hey Red, I thought you had more manners than this.” You laughed nervously, bent over a table in the VIP room, your face against the cold marble. After Nightwing left, he didn’t put down his tough guy act.

He didn’t answer you but you knew you still held his attention by the way you felt his eyes on you. It didn’t even feel like he was undressing you with his eyes because he had seen it all before.

He scoffed, correcting your posture, only to place you on his lap, facing him. Your legs were spread across his right thigh, your clothed sex roughly brushed up against the fabric of his pants.

“This isn’t exactly what I was imagining when I kept your pussy activities in mind all those months ago.”

You were surprised he even remembered that time.

“I mean, I guess we could have gotten to said activities if I paid a little extra tonight,” he drawled.

“But why would I do that when I know we’ll end up like this anyway?” The Red Hood asked, slowly moving your bra straps aside. A hand still held your wrists together so you couldn’t help him.

“How do you know I won’t charge you? It costs extra to take the dancers back here and even more to touch them.”

“Well, my tab’s still open, isn’t it?”

You felt yourself grow hot at the mention of the first time you had sex with the Red Hood.

“You’ve been a bad girl while we were apart.”

Did his helmet hold a charge? You felt the hair on your neck raise, hearing his mechanic voice whisper to you. No, it wasn’t the helmet. You wanted him.

“Bad girls do bad things.”

“Or…” You trailed, readjusting yourself against him. “Are you upset because you wanted to do bad things with me when I was gone?”

He moved his thigh up slightly, brushing against you. The surprise movement sent a shock to your pussy, temporarily paralyzing you over him. As quickly as it came, it went.

You would have brushed it off as an accident, just him trying to get comfortable, if you didn’t know him. But you knew that all your interactions with the Red Hood were intentional.

He reached back to your bra to undo its hooks. Your breasts came out with an eager drop, happy to finally be released from their tight cage. The air instantly made your nipples hard.

Jason wanted to keep his helmet on, wanted to keep his mask on to keep a distance in case this confrontation didn’t go the way he wanted. But when he saw your tits bounce and your hardened buds, his mouth drooled. He couldn’t resist you.

You swallowed and dragged your fingers into through his hair, holding him close as the Red Hood suckled on a nipple while the other breast was groped.

Jason could feel your heat through his cargo pants. You grinded against his thigh, using the friction to stimulate your swollen bud.

He wanted you to use him, to get yourself off. He missed your soft sighs of content or the whimpers when he touched you.

You pushed him back so he could relax against the club’s loveseat. As Jason leaned back, he admired his work. From your neck to the ribs below your chest, he marked you up with love bites to remind you that you were taken.

Putting one hand on his shoulder, the other hand pressed against his chest for better balance. You could feel his heart thumping against your touch.

He bounced his thigh against your sex, causing you to bury your face in the crook of his neck. Hot, heavy breaths gave Jason goosebumps.

“That’s right, love,” the change in pet names made you shiver. “Use me. You know I love it when you come undone.”

“Well you know I love it when you cum.”

“I want your cock. It’s been too long,” you moaned, feeling yourself get close from the rubbing.

Jason had no time to think of something witty in return. He pulled his pants to the tops of his boots for optimal range of motion. In contrast, you daintily stepped out of your panties.

He wondered if you would kneel before him and talk dirty like you did on your couch. His cock twitched in anticipation. Maybe you’d let his cock settle between your tits.

You did neither as you straddled the Red Hood. You hovered over the angry, red tip that wanted to be inside you already.

You slowly lowered yourself onto him, taking him by the head only at first. Jason groaned as he felt your wet folds encase him, hot and slippery from the thigh ride from earlier.

“Try not to cum, I know it’s been awhile.” You said smugly as you looked down on him. The Red Hood had his eyes closed, jaw clenched as you moved yourself up and down on his shaft, never going past the head.

“Babe… baby, _please_ ,” he finally got out, voice a hoarse whisper.

“What? You don’t like the way I ride?”

Jason sucked in a shaky breath, trying not to cum as he felt you bounce faster.

“N –no! It’s just, it just feels too good,” he said between moans.

You liked the power you had over him. 

“I thought you said I was _bad_ girl. And bad girls don’t like to give in so easily.”

Jason begged more desperately this time. How did you make yourself wetter and tighter? You were torturing him.

You finally lowered yourself on him to the base. Only bouncing on his tip was a tease for you too, after all.

There was that soft sigh that he missed.

Jason grabbed your ass to set the pace that he wanted you at. Bouncing up and down his cock, you thought of how you missed the way he stretched you out and filled you up. A hand reached behind you to give his balls a light squeeze. You also missed the lewd look on his face when you did that. You loved watching those pale blue eyes roll back, his tongue sticking out slightly. You did it again for good measure.

Between the moans and slapping skin, the open mouthed kisses and harsher spanks, you felt yourself reaching your end.

“You know what I wanted to do when you were gone?” Jason asked, his hair now matted down with sweat.

He looked at you, your eyes closed in concentration as you rode him.

“I want you to fucking look at me, baby,” the Red Hood thumbed your chin down to get your attention.

You did as you were told, but it was hard to keep your eyes open when he pounding into you so hard.

Jason groaned out your name after a particularly forceful thrust.

“I want you to look at me, love,” he started again. “I want you to watch me cum. I want you to see _exactly_ what you to do me.” His voice was broken, trying to find strength in-between breaths.

His admission sent you over the edge, feeling yourself clench around his cock. Feeling the change in tightness, Jason quickly brought fingers to your swollen clit to intensify your orgasm. You tried to keep your eyes open for as long as you could, but you found them closed as you reached your peak.

Watching you lose yourself in pleasure, watching you cum on his cock, _feeling_ you cum on his cock was enough for Jason. He felt your eyes on him as he bit his lip, shooting thick milky ropes of cum inside you.

—

You laid cradled in his chest, both of you trying to steady your breaths. But with the intensity of your orgasms, it took several minutes before you could speak

“So I’m guessing the email was your answer?”

“I thought people had to be in relationships for months, maybe _years_ even, before they asked their significant other to change…”

“Implying that’s not what all these months together have been?”

“I don’t even know your _name_ , Red, yet you know significantly more about me.”

Jason couldn’t argue against this. He would tell you everything if you promised that you’d be with him.

“Really makes it seem like we’re _not_ together when you think of it that way, don’t you think?”

You got off of him to put your underwear back on. Jason watched as some of his cum slowly dripped out of you.

“Good night and, well…” You knotted your robe into a bow, trying not to look uncomfortable. “Read that one line in the email again.”


	19. Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: sexual themes, adult language

Fallen in love? Maybe you were being too dramatic in the email. But a part of you couldn’t help but call it anything less than love.

The Red Hood made you want more. He made you want more than midnight hook-ups and hurried kisses. He made you want a kiss good night and a kiss good morning. He made you want to tell him who you really are instead of revealing yourself through a camera’s lens. He made you want to stay in place instead of run away.

You wanted to know him, the _real_ him, not the vigilante at night nor the crabby intern at day. You wanted to know his name. You wanted to _say_ his name, not only in the throes of passion but just to say it. You wanted to feel the way his name rolled off your tongue, the way the word fit in your mouth. You wanted to know the story behind his scars and why the one on his neck hurts him the most. You wanted to know if the boy from Crime Alley was him and what happened in the years before you met him.

You loved him even though you barely knew him.

Thus the what if’s outweighed the why not’s as easily the flirty banter turned to sexual tension.

A scared part of you wondered if this was some sort of long con. He never answered when you asked if he’d take you to jail. That part of you was looking for a way out, another reason to run again.

“A part of healing is learning to trust yourself again: trust your choices, trust your judgement,” your therapist tried to remind you, “You can’t continue to blame yourself for what other people did to you, for how they felt about you. Stop thinking about ‘what if it doesn’t work out’ and ask yourself ‘what if it does?’”

\---

You’ve worked with Black Mask before but you’ve never actually worked _with_ him. You usually passed information along to mid to high level executives in the organization. Even after working with his organization for a couple of years, you only knew him through descriptions rather than your own personal assessment of his looks.

You heard from others about how ruthless he could be. How cruel he could be. How much of an asshole he was. And yet you found yourself working with him more often than not, usually against your own volition. His executives could be disgusting, slimy creeps. His henchmen were no better. You’ve thought of all the times you said no, tried to delay or even avoid confrontation altogether. Despite all of the disguises, fake names and burner phones, he was always able to find you on _his_ terms. Most of your clientele usually had to wait for you to come to them or make posts on the Dark Web looking for someone of your description. He was a dangerous man when you had something he wanted.

So when he invited you to a small gathering, you were on edge.

“Why me?” You asked the mid-tier administrator suspiciously. Why now, of all times?

You usually found yourself straining to hear what they had to say through the mask. A muffled voice replied, “He figured you’d ask that. It’s just an event. To say thank you, for all of your hard work with us.”

If you were on edge when you got the invitation, you were tottering and trying to balance for dear life on the actual night of the event.

The building was sketchy. The elevator seemed like it would break down at any moment. You swore you saw some tweakers running out of sight at the sound of yours and the attendant’s footsteps. What kind of shitty party was he planning? Was this the night your life ends?

You took the necessary precautions for tonight: smoke bombs, a gun, a knife, a kit to see if your drink had been drugged.

You weren’t stupid enough to show up as your actual self either. You’re sure that Black Mask wouldn’t expect you to show up as yourself either.

You tried to look at yourself in the reflection of the dull and scratched elevator doors. Based on it, you looked like a fucking Minecraft character covered in scratches.

Yet you knew you looked good. Black Mask’s attendant couldn’t keep his eyes off of you and his staring was starting to become uncomfortable.

When the attendant got tired of ogling your body, he stared at your mask.

Going with a skull mask would have been the obvious choice for this little get-together, but you weren’t sure if Black Mask would find the similar style amusing or insulting. Rather than wearing a simple domino mask, you went with something more theatric: a pleather domino mask with bunny ears. The ears of the rabbit mask made you feel a bit self-conscious but at least it was _secure_.

You held your breath as your elevator ride from hell finally ended.

The stop was a rough one, with a few mini drops and re-ascents that made you worry that you wouldn’t even make it to the party.

When you finally exhaled and the doors opened, you were surprised to see something lavish. A stark contrast to the rest of this decrepit building.

Black Mask and another masked man sat opposite on two leather chairs. The two were dressed in all black Armani suits. The unknown man wore a mask that hid the entirety of his face, no features to hint who he was. The coffee table between them held liquors and spirits that were just as, if not more, expensive than any piece of information you ever sold.

Is this some fucking BDSM play party? Your mouth thought it could do better than your brain. “Am I going to get fucked right now?”

They didn’t even look at you when the doors opened but they were definitely looking at you now.

Black Mask stood up, calling you by your full name. You tried not to act so stiff but having him expose your identity like that in front of another stranger made you on edge. He smiled as he got closer, satisfaction apparent as he watched you squirm.

“That tip regarding the group home that would have opened in my territory _really_ helped me out,” he said as he led you towards another empty seat by the table.

One hand was placed on the small of your back, the other held your hand in a grip that was borderline uncomfortable. The intimacy of his touch reminded you of how easily the title of honored guest could turn into prisoner.

The other masked man turned to you but said nothing.

“And the information regarding Kryptonian biology as well as helping me facilitate that purchase from Lex Corp will be of great use in expanding my empire.”

You gave him a polite smile, sitting upright in your seat of honor.

“So a celebration is in order. A party of that variety was not what I had planned _but_ ,” and he glanced towards the other man, “It can be arranged.”

The other guest still said nothing.

“Forgive my friend’s silence,” he motioned towards him, “He is a bit shy. As for your suggestion, is that how you truly wish to celebrate tonight?”

Maybe death was better than accidentally propositioning a threesome with two crime lords. You gave a hesitant smile, “I’m sorry, but I’m into masks with a bit more red on it.”

“Ah yes,” Black Mask said knowingly. “I’ve read the articles under your pseudonym. I can say that we have similar tastes. Though our attraction may be for different reasons.”

“I was _kidding_ and that was just an article written as an easy cash grab,” you said defensively.

“My apologies,” he said though he didn’t look the least bit sorry.

As Black Mask poured you a celebratory drink, another masked attendant burst through the elevator doors.

His breathing was heavy and his voice was frantic. “It burst through the containment shell again, sir. Two men are critically injured and the rest are–”

Black Mask calmly handed you the drink and your hands tried not to shake as you felt waves of silent anger roll off of him.

He then turned to the attendant and with one look silenced the man.

“Apparently, our celebration is doomed to be interrupted.” He said addressing you and the other man.

The other man stood up to leave.

“Forgive us, but we have business to attend to. Please help yourself to any of the alcohol. I’ll send one of my men to find you for our rescheduled date.”

\---

The car ride back to the main facility that held Bizarro was quiet as Jason went over the new information in his head.

You sold information to Black Mask about Ma Gunn’s plan, nearly getting her killed a couple of weeks ago. Jason was lucky to have found her in time. You fucked in an abandoned building twice and helped bandage his wounds after. You didn’t ask what happened. You probably knew already.

You were the girl back at Gotham University who was researching alien genetics. You teased him with that fucking skirt and flashed him. That’s when it started to go downhill. That’s when you started to seduce him. He found the skirt again when he laid the nano cameras in your first safe house. This must have been the start of you feeding Black Mask information to help further his agenda and to spy on Jason.

When working at Wayne Tech, there were multiple meetings with Lex Corp, it was possible that you set up a meeting for them to sell Bizarro to Black Mask at that time. Or did you offer up information in a different way? Did you tell them about the safest way to transport the big guy to Gotham? You didn’t lie when you said you weren’t there to fuck Tim because you were there to fuck Jason over instead.

Jason tried to keep his thoughts objective as he reassessed the facts. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself.

You sold information about Ma Gunn to Black Mask. You didn’t know his relationship to her. You didn’t even know who Jason Todd was. You never asked him about his work during any of your encounters either. It would have been more unusual for you if you did.

You ran into him while trying to gather information on Kryptonian biology. He didn’t have enough evidence to prove that you knew it was him at the time and that that was the start of your honeypot.

It was when he first read that article you wrote about him that he became interested. It was the repeated encounters, the flirtations. That all happened before meeting you at the university. He wanted you before then.

Black Mask said you helped facilitate the purchase of the Superman clone from Lex Corp. Though it was highly likely that this could have been done while you were working as Tim’s assistant, there wasn’t enough information to say it was done on company time. Black Mask’s wording was too vague.

Jason wondered if you knew what the fuck you were doing. You said you admired what he did for Gotham yet here you were helping the man that was the antithesis to Jason’s work. He didn’t have to tell you that he was working to take down the man’s empire. It was obvious in the police reports and news accounts that he was after Roman’s head.

If you had known what you were doing, would you still have done it? Jason thought of his first impression of Bizarro: scared after being forced to live in this world. He related to the clone all too well. Would you have helped Black Mask if you knew how they experimented on him? If you knew the cruel tests they had planned for him?

You would have cared, Jason told himself. You wouldn’t have done it if you’d known.

\---

You walked into your safe house, arms full of tape and unfolded packing boxes. Would it be better to throw it all in storage or should you bring them with you? Did you even need all of this? Why should you have to leave the comfort of your place? What did you even think working with the Red Hood would entail?

You groaned in frustration, thinking how you just wasted your whole day and the past week and a half.

What were you thinking with that half-assed proposal and half-assed confession? This wasn’t moving in with your boyfriend. This was a career changing –no, _life_ changing– moment and you couldn’t even think logically about what was happening or its consequences.

You dumped the moving supplies on the floor by the couch, deciding on packing up your clothes tomorrow. You needed to sort out your thoughts tonight, think this plan through instead and decide if that’s what you really wanted.

As you reached your bedroom and flicked on the lights, you stood still at the doorway. 

The Red Hood was lounging on your wide leather arm chair, legs splayed apart, book in hand. You began to sweat, praying to whoever would listen that it wasn’t the diary your therapist gave you to help you identify triggering events or feelings. You looked at the spine, trying to quickly assess which information was written in the book. Black. It was the daybook you used to account for your financial transactions. Your very illegal financial transactions. _Shit._

A loud clap from the book closing brought your attention back to the Red Hood.

“We need to talk.”


	20. A Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: angst, smut, adult language, vague mentions of trauma

You closed the door behind you, feeling as if your heart was going to explode with each step you took towards him.

You listened to the familiar click of the lock on his helmet releasing. Cold blue eyes stared back as you tentatively sat on the edge of the bed closest to the chair.

“What do you want now?” You asked, voice coming out harsher than you intended.

There was something different about the way he looked at you, the way his body laid in the chair. He looked determined in whatever it was that he was going to do tonight.

Setting the book aside on your nightstand, he stalked over to your bed. He reminded you of how large he was compared to you. It was perfect for when he wanted to play the role of a dom but when he was upset like this, all you could do was shrink back into the bedding.

“I want to know why you think it’s acceptable to work with Black Mask.”

You gulped, palms getting sweaty against your sheets as he waited for your answer. You tried to get the reasons out. Black Mask was stalking you. He was intimidating you. You couldn’t say no. You couldn’t escape him.

Then another voice inside you wanted you to stop playing the victim. It wanted you to take responsibility for what you do. You were just trying to make money. Black Mask was the highest bidder. Getting involved with the Red Hood didn’t change that. How many times have you told him that you weren’t some hero? That you’re living with selfish intentions?

But nothing comes out other than a raggedy breath as you felt your heart beat wildly against its cage.

He moved your body to the middle of the bed easily, straddling you so you couldn’t escape, couldn’t run away from him like you always did.

“I want to know why,” his voice cracked, “I’m not good enough for you.”

“I want to know why I have to beg, why I have to _plead_ to get you to work with me, to get you to _be_ with me.”

You couldn’t find the resolve to tell him. You couldn’t find the voice to say that you’re fucked up, that you liked the power you have over him, that you liked the control because he made you feel so different from how you’re used to feeling that it terrifies you. You couldn’t tell him that you’re afraid and you need more reassurance, and that even with that, you still weren’t fully convinced.

Jason waited for you to answer. He already thought of the different things that you could say. You’re disgusting. You’re pathetic. You’re weak. _I don’t love you._ He could offer them up to give you ideas, but he was afraid you’d go along with them all too easily. Jason was afraid you wouldn’t refute his insecurities. Your silence said everything.

Two anxious hearts stared at each other in silence, their self-hatred too myopic in scope, unable to see love just a glance over.

“Why the fuck does it matter?”

Because this meant the end of whatever it was that they were doing. It meant the end of this one-sided bullshit, the end of this dragged out longing. Because there was always a deep sense of loss when things came to an end even if it meant that it would be the start of something new.

Because Jason loved you. He wanted to provide for you so that you wouldn’t have to live this life of crime. He wanted to hold you in his arms whenever you were behind closed doors. He wanted to be the one you confided in not that therapist that you fucking hated anyway. He wanted to tell you everything: who he was, who he is, what happened in the time in-between. He wanted to tell you what became of the boy from Crime Alley and the years before his death.

Because you loved him. You wanted to know more than just his body. You wanted to see all of the fucked up, broken parts of him. You wanted to see the jealousy and insecurity and sadness that often laid behind his eyes. You wanted to see what hope might look like behind them instead. You wanted to feel his muscles relax underneath your touch. You wanted to make him feel safe enough to open up to you. You wanted to show him all of the fucked up, broken parts of you. You wanted to know if even after all of that, he’d still feel the same.

The question was a test to see who would crack under the pressure first. To see what smart ass reply they could come up with to deflect the question. To see who would come up with some dumb tease first. To see if they’d be honest or continue to lie through their teeth.

It was a test that they knew needed words to answer. But both of them had lips of deceit and actions that hardly ever betrayed their hearts.

A kiss unlike the hurried crush of lips when you two knew the sun would rise, unlike the open mouth that sought to arouse, unlike the angry collide to show possession. It was a soft kiss as if it was meant to reassure whatever fear had taken over them.

Clothes slid smoothly as you undressed yourselves, the only sounds were their quiet pooling as they slipped to the floor and the harsher thuds of the Red Hood’s gear being tossed right after.

As he looked down at you, you felt shyness for the first time, a blush creeping on your face. Maybe it was the heat of the moment, the charge in the air as you let feelings fly and let emotions loose in your voices. Maybe it was the rawness of the subject matter, a topic you two picked at and processed until it was nothing more than a dragged out joke.

Another kiss, delicate tension created as each set of lips caressed each other. Two tongues this time to explore and act as if this was their first meeting.

Jason had goosebumps as the tips of your fingers ghosted over the topography of his being. You trailed over muscle, following its contour. A thumb brushed over abrasions, the scabbed skin rough beneath your touch.

As spectral as your touch was, Jason knew your eyes could see right through him. That even if he lied and said he hated it, hated this, hated _you_ , that you would know the truth.

He couldn’t look at you anymore, dipping his head low to your neck. The quick pecks against your skin created a sharp, sucking noise to counteract the euphony of your sighs.

Your hands were in his hair now, scratching his scalp and lightly tugging his dark locks. The sensation was more relaxing than sensual with the way your fingertips languidly glided across. Jason wondered what it would feel like to be woken up like this, head in your chest after a late night of lovemaking.

His lips found their way to your nipples, exposure to the air making them hard. He played with the buds with his mouth, with his fingers to make you sing. The moans and sighs were like a music box, each note prettier than the last. A twist and a pinch to make your voice higher and taking it away to make you slow down. You reminded him of the box’s ballerina, shaking on your spring pedestal to the finishing notes of your last dance.

Because this would be the last night, the last dance for you and him tonight.

Because Jason loved you and paradoxically hated you. He wanted you so badly but knew he couldn’t have you. Because everything he loved turned to shit. His parents, Bruce, Robin, death. Everything he loved was taken away forcefully or even worse, they just left. It was easier to have one foot in the door. It was easier to just get up and leave.

You begged for him to touch you. Touch you more, touch you rougher, touch you _there_. You clawed at him not to push him away but to hold you closer. To sink your nails in and create a one-sided blood oath bound by dragged out crescent moons. A promise to stay the night, stay the morning, stay forever.

Because you didn’t want to hear his words. You already knew.

_This wouldn’t last forever._

Finally your begging was heard. And like some gracious god –no, a _cruel_ god –his hand dipped south to touch you. Fingers dragged across your entrance, finger pads gave a gentle knock against your clit. You opened your legs wider to welcome him, gave him verbal assurance to come. But he stalled, not because he was afraid to enter but because he didn’t want to leave.

Two fingers inside you now pumped in and out. You writhed beneath Jason and he remembered that this wasn’t over yet. Your wetness told him that it’s just begun and that you were ready. His hard member brushed against your leg and he loved the way your lips parted in a gasp.

Using a knee to spread your legs further, he positioned himself in front of you.

“Don’t you want me to touch you?”

“This is enough.”

It was enough because he didn’t want to remember your touch. He didn’t want to remember the way you felt. He didn’t want to think about how much softer and smaller your hands were as you grasped him. He didn’t want to remember your sloppy strokes or the way you’d spread his pre-cum on your palm, only to lap it up slowly. He didn’t want to think about the way your lips wrapped around him or how you’d stare up to make sure he was watching. He didn’t want to remember your touch, your look, your feel when you took him wholly down your throat, hands gently rubbing his sack.

He didn’t want to remember you or anything you made him feel.

It wasn’t enough because you wanted to memorize his taste, his scent, his feel. You wondered if all sex was like this and had a flash of regret for all the times you distanced yourself from it. _No_ , not all sex was like this. It was more than that and for that reason alone it wasn’t enough for you. It wasn’t enough to taste him, smell him, touch him because you wanted every part of him imprinted into your memory and stuck inside your bones.

The head of his cock teased you, rubbed you, did everything it could to infuriate you and want the man before you more. It was during an open mouthed kiss when he finally sunk himself into you, your gasps echoed in his mouth.

Jason stifled a moan in his throat, a strangled noise coming out instead. You were tight, wet, warm and soft. All for him and him alone. He had to remind himself that this wasn’t home with each thrust, pump and cry that hit his ears.

The grab of a hand and interlaced fingers, both unsure who touched who first. He held you hostage, hand above head, but your other was free to roam. It grazed his face, his lips, his neck, that fucking scar, traveled south and deviated left. Jason watched you stare back at him, knowing how fast his heart beat in the moment, how fast it beat for you.

“Red, I lo–”

A kiss to suffocate, a kiss to stop, a kiss for anything but the words you were about to say.

He grinded into you deeper, faster, rougher to distract you, to take away your breath, to take away your voice. He didn’t want this to be harder than it had to be. Eventually your words turned to syllables to moans to whimpers. A broken “fuck” parted into two syllables: each harsh, each enunciated, separated by a sigh. Your hand held onto him tighter.

You were close and he could tell. He didn’t miss the way your eyes burned, the way they scorched each part of him they gazed upon. Now they were closed: too focused on pleasure, too focused on sensation. He felt you squeeze to keep him there, to stay still in the moment, but he needed to keep on going.

“Why won’t you let me?”

It wasn’t that he didn’t want you to, it’s that he couldn’t. It was an act of self-preservation.

He said your name to soothe you, in hopes he could fuck it all better. But it was a knife, a dagger, a wound. A word of shame to remind you that as intimate as it seemed, you knew nothing about him.

“Say it.”

Jason watched your mouth twist into a plea.

“I want to hear it, love.”

There was no kiss to stop that damned word.

He watched the heave of your chest, slowing his motions to stop the slapping of skin and squelches. He could hear your heart racing.

You looked at him now and Jason wondered if you ruined your own orgasm with your vague requests. His hips ground into you lazily, in hopes he keep whatever fire was in you burning.

“I want more than a color, Red. I want to know your name.”

You said it so quietly and in a voice so small that your request could have gotten lost in the squeak of the bed.

And as if some spell was broken, as if cold water rained on you, as if you looked into his glacial eyes and jumped into his soul, he defined the space between you and him.

“No.”

And instead of drowning, freezing, falling or whatever the hell it was that was happening, you brushed off the cold, the ice, the snow. Few things could live in the tundra and even then they were hardly surviving.

You laughed at his withdrawal, how he got you this far before stopping. You should have known. That deep down maybe you are broken and you are unlovable. You should have known but at least he was there to tell you openly.

Jason moved uncomfortably against you as your chest heaved full of laughter. It was that borderline between grief and joy, leaning more towards choking sobs.

You pulled your hand out of his to swipe at tears that weren’t there.

“You know why I like you, _Red_? Because you’re a bad boy. But ya know what happens when bad boys meet bad girls like me? They get punished.”

You said it in a tone that teased, that lacked the scared intimacy from before. It was a front.

A kiss, crushing and desperate. Your hand pressed against the back of his head to keep him there. It was a kiss that left your mouth red. Red like the color of passion. Red like the color of guilt. Red like the color of anger. A kiss that reminded you of Red, the man who didn’t love you.

Jason couldn’t hear music from your mouth anymore.

Your sounds were more like a fire. A sharp hiss when he bit you. The sputtering of syllables as his hips snapped into you roughly. And like a fire, you sought to consume him, burn him, scorch him. You kissed him deeply whenever he thrust into you hard, a desperate attempt to take all oxygen he had. A slap on the ass to motivate him to fuck you harder, the action leaving red, angry marks like a burn.

You scratched his back with each pound, the long red lines looking like the attack of a demon. His grunts were low, guttural and deep.

This was hell.

How much he loved you, how much he hated you. How much he wanted you, how much he needed you. He wanted to sink into your warmth but he was so afraid of the flame.

This was hell.

How good he felt inside you, how tightly you squeezed him. How you fit perfectly in his arms with enough space to whisper in his ear.

He couldn’t forget you because you wouldn’t let him.

\---

You woke up, expecting an empty bed. You felt the brush of fabric on you. You didn’t remember putting your clothes back on. You turned to the Red Hood and wondered why he was fully dressed.

You heard the clink of handcuffs as it encircled your wrists. It was the cold metal that made you alert.

“Sorry babe but bad girls still need to be punished.”

“And I think,” he said in that deep vibrato of his, “You might even need a little time out. For all the very bad things you’ve done.”

“Oh yeah? And what kind of time out were you thinking of, Red? Huh? Edging? Orgasm denial?”

“What? You gonna make me beg for that cock?”

“All great ideas but unfortunately still not the time out I was thinking of.”

Jason watched as you pouted.

“This time out is a little longer than what you might expect. It also involves a lot more people.”

You struggled against the restraint, understanding what his teasing meant. The vigorous grind caused your wrists to burn bright red.

“I fucking trusted you. I opened myself to you. I showed you the broken parts of me that I hated, that I tried to throw away. I let you into this dark space and this is what you do?”

You tried to spit out more words, but your sobs kept messing them up.

“You asked me to work with you, to change myself, to _be_ with you. And I was! I was going to do it _all_ like a fucking idiot even though I know nothing about you.”

It wasn’t the threat of imprisonment that upset you. It was the reality of his betrayal. Because a part of you thought that maybe your intimacy would have changed his mind. That maybe love could have won this time around. Instead he wanted to throw you out of his sight, out of his mind, in a place to rot forever.

For the second time tonight, you felt rejected.

For the second time tonight, you felt relieved that you wouldn’t have to change.

His hand connected with your face with a sorrow that both of you have known was bound to happen but chose to ignore until now. There was no warmth, only leather. A gloved thumb wiped a stray tear before it could makes its way to your quivering lips.

His lips felt plump and bruised against yours from the beating it took from you hours before. He kissed you as if he never would again. You knew that he wouldn’t.

And all the words both of you should have said were lost, shoved into some dusty cabinet you’d rather forget. There was no time for honesty. Not now, not anymore.

He was already gone.

\---

Everything was a daze as you remembered the judge’s face as he read your charges: forgery, extortion, blackmail. Photocopies of your black book, several CCTV stills and what you assumed was a camera in the Red Hood’s helmet were displayed as evidence. It was a lengthy sentence to Blackgate.

“Must be your first rodeo, huh, Kitten?” You heard a woman purr behind you.

Somehow Selina Kyle made the obnoxious orange jumpsuits look high fashion.

“You know those types, the kind that make you _batty_ ,” she drawled, taking a seat next to you on the rec room bench.

“The cognitive dissonance is too much for them to handle. On one hand, they’re trying to stunt crime in Gotham. On the other, well… _we both know what it’s doing_.”

You hummed in agreement, only half listening, replaying all your encounters with the Red Hood in your mind.

“Cheer up, Kitten. They always end up coming back regardless of how many times they say that they won’t.”

\---

“Mail!” One of the guards called and eager inmates lined up to receive their letters.

There was no one outside waiting for you. You had just gotten off the phone with your therapist earlier today. There was nothing for you to be expecting.

“Here,” one of them threw a letter on the table you were sitting at.

You opened it, unsure of who would be writing to you. There was no return address.

There wasn’t even a letter inside, just a torn folded piece of paper.

_I’m sorry._

_-J_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


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